


Hourglass Sins

by Amorah_Leigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-04-27 13:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14426886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorah_Leigh/pseuds/Amorah_Leigh
Summary: Set at the end of Season 3, Emma finds her way back from the Enchanted Forest after spending three months as the Queen's captive. Now she has to find a way to acclimate back to regular life, but after being the Queen's for so long, will she be able to? Or will instilled habits become too hard to break and her yearning for Regina too much to bear. Eventual SwanQueen.





	1. Chapter 1

Emma landed hard, chest heaving as the portal closed behind them. The cold floor pressed into her back and pieces of straw clung to her hair. For a moment, she was back in a dark cell, chains binding her ankles as she shivered in the cold, damp air.

Emma shook it away. She couldn't keep going back there. She had survived worse in her eighteen years of foster care. Hell, she had survived worse after foster care. Living on the streets and jail time weren't exactly a piece of cake. But this was different. This was the Evil Queen. Emma hadn't just suffered at her hand. Not like her foster families who neglected and abused her out of anger and selfishness. The Queen had a purpose, to claim her in every way possible.

Each move the Queen made was as methodical as it was unpredictable. Punishments and rewards were given and taken with no discernible pattern. Emma was left floundering in the dark with the Queen's rules as her only foundation.

She had held out as long as possible. After being captured as Princess Leia, she'd spent a week in the dungeon. She was given no comfort and only enough food and water to make sure she didn't die. She was certain she'd lost ten pounds that first week. She'd lost even more weight sense, her red leather jacket sliding over her shoulders. Food was a reward, as she quickly found out. A reward and a temptation.

When the Queen arrived at her cell with a roasted chicken and cooked vegetables, her stomach betrayed her, fighting against any resistance she'd thought she had. She managed not to answer the Queen's request for her real name the first three times she asked, but as the Queen un-lidded each plate, her strength faded.

The Queen pressed a silver fork into the tender meat, steam wafting into the air. She stepped closer to the cell and Emma trembled, her nostrils flaring.

_"One last chance, and this," The Queen gestured to the tray of food, "disappears. What is your real name?"_

_Emma squeezed her eyes shut. She knew giving Regina any information was dangerous. It could change their future irrevocably. Then again, she'd already managed to mess things up with her parents. If the damage was already done, what would her name hurt? She was still disguised as Leia. If she did manage to set things right and get home, there were thousands of people who shared her name. Besides, how much longer could she survive without food? The more strength she lost, the less likely she'd be able to escape._

_Opening her eyes, she met the Queen's gaze. "Emma."_

_"Good girl," The Queen whispered, extending the fork. Emma reached for it and the Queen drew back. "Ah-ah-ah. Open."_

_Emma's eyes widened and her body tensed as her desire for food warred with her pride._

_"Three seconds. One. Two. Th-"_

_Emma lurched forward, her teeth and lips closing over the offered morsel. She pulled back and dropped her eyes to the floor, chewing slowly. When she swallowed, the chicken forced down the lump building in her throat. It was the first dent in her armor. She tried to tell herself it wouldn't happen again, but as she glanced at the Queen's cat-like smile, she know it would. For whatever reason, the Queen found her intriguing and from she knew about the Regina in her world, if she took in interest in you, she'd find a way to get what she wanted. The questions was, what did she want now?_

_The cell opened and magic pushed at her back. Emma stepped forward, bracing when the Queen's fingers gripped her chin. "I'm going to let you out, Emma."_

_Emma's eyebrows creased. "Why?"_

_"Don't misunderstand, dear, You are in no way free to go. You broke the law and you are my prisoner. But if you please me tonight, just maybe I'll let you be something more."_

_Cold tendrils of magic swirled over Emma's skin, tantalizing as they caressed her. Each brush sent a shiver down her spine and goosebumps trailing her skin. The Queen's eyes darkened as a soft whimper slipped through her parched lips. Emma's mind grew fuzzy, her legs weakening. A faint pulse beat low in her belly. It flushed heat to her center and Emma clenched her thighs. The magic was intoxicating. It was also deceitful, a game The Queen would play over and over again._

_In the next second, pleasure turned to pain. Razor blades sliced at the protective glamor covering her body. Emma knew it wasn't really her skin being peeled away, but in that moment it was hard to tell the difference. She felt raw and burnt as the air shimmered, Gold's powerful disguise falling away._

_When it was over, Emma was on her knees, the Queen's fingers tight in her hair. "Did you think I didn't know?"_

_Emma didn't answer. She stared up into the dark eyes of the woman who had been her greatest enemy and her greatest friend. And now? She wasn't sure what this was._

_"Welcome to your new life, Emma. The first thing you need to know? It is mine."_

There were many rules Emma was expected to follow, but that was the first and the one she was expected to remember. Her life was no longer her own. As such, the Queen decided when she slept or ate. She made the decisions as to what comforts Emma received, whether clothing or a bed.

For the most part, The Queen provided Emma with whatever she needed, as long as she was obedient in every other way. That's where it got tricky. Emma was allowed to eat, but only after the Queen gave her permission. Sometimes that meant sitting in front of a warm plate, her hands folded in front of her while she waited for the Regina's nod of approval.

The Queen! Her mind retaliated.

It was how she had survived the last three months. Hook was right to make the distinction when they first fell through Zelena's portal. She couldn't think of the Queen as Regina. If she did…

Emma clamped down on her lip, her body trembling. She felt like an addict, fighting the urge for another hit. When her magic returned, she had almost told the Queen about it. It took everything in Emma to fight the Queen's carefully instilled habits of obedience. It was harder still, knowing she didn't have the skills to just poof away from the castle. If the Queen caught her, she would have felt the reprimand for weeks.

In the end, it was the thought of Henry that made her take the risk. She'd used her magic to skirt passed guards and open the castle locks that kept her prisoner. Afterwards, she threw her efforts into reuniting her parents, erasing the Queen's memory and getting back to Storybrook. As long as she had something else to focus on, she was fine. But now?

No. She was fine. She could do this. She didn't need her Queen.

_The_ Queen, her mind corrected.

"Emma."

She glanced to her left where Hook was limbing to his feet.

"You okay?"

"Fine." She sat up quickly - a little too quickly, and dusted her hands on her jeans. She took his offered hand, allowing him to hoist her up. Everything looked the same way they'd left it, right down to her broken cell phone on the ground. She picked it up, blowing dirt from the cracked screen. She would have to get that fixed, but at least it still worked. The screen lit up, revealing three missed calls: one from her parents, one from Henry, and one from Regina.

Emma swallowed hard and shoved the phone in her pocket, not bothering to listen to their voicemails. "Do you think they're all still at Granny's?"

"Aye. It's still early."

"Late for us." It was the middle of the night before she'd managed to open the portal again. "I think I'm just going to go home and get some rest."

"And then what?"

She narrowed her eyes. She hated how arrogant he could be sometimes. While his persistence had gotten them out of a few scrapes, she didn't need it in her personal life. He hadn't prodded about her time locked in the Queen's castle, but his eyes cut to her constantly, careful as if she were cracked glass. She hated it. She didn't need or want his pity. He didn't even know what had happened between them. He assumed the worst, but she wasn't about to tell him the details. She needed space from his worried hovering. Whatever might have been between them was over. That much she knew.

"What are your plans?" Hook tried again.

"I get up and go to work."

"And say what to your parents?"

"That I was tired. I think they'll understand, considering the day's events." She walked from the barn, massaging her forehead when she heard him on her heels.

"And when they ask why you look pale or like you dropped twenty pounds over night?"

"Then I say I'm getting sick. I'll wear layers for a while."

"Emma the book changed-"

"And so did their memories, so just drop it!" She paused, taking a deep breath. "We fixed it, okay? Everything is back to normal. That's all that matters."

"Not everything, love."

"Hook!" She spun on her heel, jabbing her finger into his chest. "You need to forget about this, because as far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

They were both silent, Hook deciding how much further he could push before she killed him. Not far.

"You can't hide from this, Emma."

"Hide from what?" She asked, backing away. "It never happened."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at the end of Season 3, Emma finds her way back from the Enchanted Forest after spending three months as the Queen's captive. Now she has to find a way to acclimate back to regular life, but after being the Queen's for so long, will she be able to? Or will instilled habits become to hard to break and her yearning for Regina too much to bear. Eventual SwanQueen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: there is violence, emotional abuse and dubious consent in the chapter that follows. Please be advised.

_Emma kneeled on the floor, chest heaving as the Queen circled her. Her back was on fire, the red lines stinging like cat scratches. Each strike of the Queen's whip targeted new flesh and each whimper brought a satisfied smirk to the Queen's face. She cherished Emma's reactions, which Emma tried to hold back, biting her lip until the taste of copper flooded her tongue._

_The Queen didn't mind. Emma's resistance was an interesting challenge. Her obstinance never brought the rage or fire Emma expected. Just quiet determination, which Emma had always found more terrifying. She'd fought with Regina for years. She'd witnessed Regina's quick temper on more than one occasion, but it was Regina's silence she feared the most. Those were the moments Emma paid dearly for her trespasses. Regina's attack always hit the last place Emma expected and somehow was where it always hurt the most. The question was, what price would she pay now?_

_Given her current circumstances, she didn't see how the Queen could make the situation worse. She wasn't about to lose control. Doing so would likely leave Emma unconscious for days and in a pool of her own blood. She wouldn't risk that. The Queen's goal wasn't to damage. Emma just wasn't sure what her goal was._

_The answer came the first time Emma broke, a strangled cry escaping her lips. The Queen's whip recoiled, replaced by soft fingers on her hunched shoulders. They caressed, warm and soothing as they glided over her collarbone and back again. Emma's breath hitched and nails bit into her skin, gripping tight. The burning fireplace roared in her ears, locking Emma's gaze on the orange and blue flames. They coated her skin, lapping at her flesh like a lover's tongue._

_"Don't," Emma whispered._

_It was bad enough the Queen had stripped her. She removed Emma's garments one-by-one, eyes devouring her toned stomach arms and stomach before gliding over her breasts and the crest between her legs. Emma flushed red, her heart racing. She would be lying if she said she'd never fantasized about being with Regina before. Their past together was complicated. So was the connection they shared. It wasn't just Henry. There was an instant pull between them, a magnetic passion that fueled their tension. But this wasn't Regina. They didn't have a shared history. The Queen's possessive gaze left her vulnerable, but not as vulnerable as she felt now, desire coursing through her veins._

_The building pleasure mede her shake and squirm beneath the Queen's firm grip. There was no escaping the magic igniting her blood. The more she fought, the worse it became. The intense heat teased her without any hope of release. At least the pain of the whip had given her an intermittent reprieve; a moment to catch her breath between each strike. Now? Emma wasn't sure how much longer she'd make it before she passed out. Her breaths were shallow pants, white stars bursting in her peripheral vision as she struggled to ride out this new assault on her body._

_The Queen, for her part, stayed silent. Her focused gaze made Emma shiver. She wasn't a prude by any means, but this wasn't a scene she'd ever contemplated either, naked and gyrating while someone studied her every gasp and whimper, each clench of her muscles and every frustrated cry. She was exposed. Her frustration on display. She was passed wet, her thighs slick and shining. The knowledge both increased her arousal and made her want to climb into a hole._

_When she could take no more, her arms collapsed, her head resting on the cold, stone floor. She waited for the sting of the Queen's reprimand, but none came. The Queen's fingers simply slid from her shoulders to the small of her back, massaging gently over the swell of her bottom. That was the moment she lost awareness, the moment she stopped fighting. The flames increased their tempo, building to a place of Emma couldn't come back from. Molten lava poured from her lower belly down between her legs. Emma's hips rocked, seeking contact and friction. She no longer cared from what or whom. She just needed release._

_The light touch at her center pulled a scream from Emma's throat. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back as she rode out an orgasm unlike any she'd had before. Her vision went white, bursts of light making her ears ring. She'd done it. She'd let herself lose control. She'd let Regina… The Queen watch while she humped at the pillows on the floor, coming hard with a simple touch of the Queen's hand. She was mortified, but even more embarrassed by the small part of her that wanted more. On some level she had enjoyed it._

_Emma didn't have time to contemplate her reaction. The Queen's magic lifted her before she'd fully caught her breath, stretching her arms and legs out again. The whip snapped against her back and Emma ground her teeth together. The Queen hit's were more calculated this time, biting harder the more Emma rebelled. When she finally gave in to the pain, she was granted another magic orgasm._

_The pattern continued four times until Emma could no longer fight, no longer resist. She gave the Queen her screams and she gave the Queen her pleasure. What scared her was what she gave the Queen after. When her body gave out completely, the Queen lifted her from the floor, murmuring comfort in hushed tones. Fingers brushed through her hair, tucking it away from her sweat covered face. A cool glass pressed to her lips and ice poured down her throat, coating her stomach. Her pain faded and the marks on her back disappeared. It was only after she drank that Emma noticed her position. She was tucked against the Queen's shoulder, leaning into her caress and encouraging her touch. She wasn't just allowing the Queen's touch. She was seeking it._

_The realization was startling. Emma knew she should move, but the part of her the Queen had opened over the last few hours didn't want to. How many times had she wished for this throughout her life? For safe place? For someone to hold and comfort her? And now it was here, in this place, with the Queen._

_Tears slipped from her eyes and her body trembled. She wanted to go home. She couldn't be here. She couldn't let this happen. She wasn't that person anymore, the little girl starved for affection. She'd survived horrible foster parents and learned how to be alone. She'd spent years stitching together a safety net. That net kept out all her demons and in one evening, the Queen had cut it in half. Without that net…_

_A soft injured sound clawed up her throat._

_"Hush." The Queen's lips traced her hairline, her arms tightening around her._

_Emma let her. She was slipping beneath the surface. It had been years since she had to fight the darkness inside her. Thirteen years to be exact, the moment the doctors took Henry away. She'd almost given in then, but she hadn't, and she wouldn't now._

_Still she didn't move. Exhaustion pulled at her resolve, her eyes growing heavy. Her fear and anxiety fell away as the Queen rocked her. The last thing she heard was the Queen's whispered, "Good girl, Emma."_

_The three words sent a pleasurable chill down her spine. They were words she had always craved to hear but never achieved. No matter how many foster families she passed through or how hard she tried to please them, it was never enough. When Emma's heart leapt in her chest, she knew she was in trouble. The Queen had found her first weakness._

Emma sat bolt-right, fingers clenched in her twisted bed sheets. Sweat soaked through her tank top, clinging to her breasts. Her panties were soaked for a different reason. The dream had felt so real. More real than she cared to think about. Her body could still feel the careful fingers of the Queen, pressing at her throbbing center.

Emma groaned, flopped back onto the bed and ground a pillow to her face. It would be so easy to slip her hand beneath the waistband of her shorts. Her orgasm would be quick. She was riding the edge as it was. But doing so would open the door for the Queen. She didn't need to intensify the ache in her chest. She wanted the Queen's touch; wanted to be wrapped against her body. She wanted her.

_Want? You need me._

Emma ignored the Queen's whisper and rolled to her side, dropping her feet to the floor. In twenty minutes she was showered and ready to go. The necessity of her tasks kept her from going over her dream, or the countless other memories that plagued her. They also kept her from thinking too hard about the rules she was breaking. The Queen hadn't approved her clothes, or how she wore her hair. The knowledge prickled her lungs, but hadn't stopped her. She was able to ignore all of it, until she reached the kitchen, stomach rumbling with both hunger and trepidation.

She stared at the cupboards, frozen as her eyes slid from one shelf to the next. She had to eat. They had a long day ahead of them. There was plenty to clean up after Zelena's reign of terror. The flying monkeys had destroyed the hospital. The clock tower wasn't in the best shape either, and the portal had sent debris flying out like an actual tornado. She'd dodged several fallen trees and a down power line on her way home. She'd called it in, but knew Regina would want to see the police report. On everything. She couldn't leave David to do it all. Besides, if she avoided her family again today, they'd be suspicious and then would come the questions. She couldn't handle that right now.

She was lucky to have avoided her parents this long. She pretended to be asleep when they came home the night before, and thankfully they had left her alone this morning. It gave her enough time to do a little damage control. She used magic to shrink her jacket and dug out some old make up to hide the circles under eyes. It helped a little. Even so, there was no denying she'd lost a substantial amount of weight.

 _"The food is there when you want it, Emma."_ The Queen's voice floated through her mind. _"The choice is yours. You know what you need to do to have it."_

The Queen never raised her voice in anger. She learned early that she didn't have to. Intimidation made Emma dig her heels in deeper. But quiet disapproval and withheld attention? They chiseled at her resolve, breaking her down until she was eating from the Queen's hand, both figuratively and literally.

If Emma refused the Queen and chose not to eat, the Queen didn't push her. She continued with her own food, not sparing a glance in Emma's direction. When she finished her meal, she asked for Emma's decision, giving a small nod if Emma chose not to answer. The Queen cleared both plates, leaving Emma kneeling by the table. Good girls were given privileges when they were earned. If Emma didn't follow the rules, she was denied basic comforts.

After their first night together, the Queen held tight to the first weakness she had discovered, Emma's desire for praise. She never called Emma bad. Not even when punishing her. Instead, she told Emma what her good girl would do, making Emma yearn to please her. At least once a weak, Emma attempted to outlast the Queen's silence. She didn't need to be anyone's good anything. She wasn't five. She was an adult; an adult who was confident in who she was and had found her place in the world. She had found her family. She was the savior. She didn't need the Queen.

She clung to those words, repeating them to herself over and over again. She let them build her stubbornness and resolve, becoming brave enough to take a piece of food without permission.

It was the worst mistake she had made during her three months in the Enchanted Forest, including the screwing up her parent's lives. Over the next five days she found herself wishing she would disappear, before reason kicked back in and reminded her that meant the end of Henry's existence too.

_"Stand up." The Queen's voice was even. That didn't mean she wasn't angry. Emma knew she was. She had enough familiarity with Regina's voice to detect the subtle nuances in the Queen's tone, picking up on the rage coursing beneath the surface._

_Emma swallowed the small bite of meat she'd taken and slowly rose to her feet._

_"Look at me."_

_Taking a deep breath, Emma lifted her eyes, meeting familiar brown irises. They were dark and imposing, scorching heat that promised violence. Before the night was out, Emma knew she'd feel the Queen's displeasure. But she wasn't going to back down. Not this time. She tensed her legs, locking her joints, despite the instinct she felt to take a step back. Doing so would only make matter's worse._

_The Queen stepped forward, fisting Emma's hair. She yanked back, tilting Emma's head until her back arched. The position went against the limits of her flexibility. Her muscles strained, quivering as she fought to remain upright._

_"Who do you belong to, Emma?"_

_Emma didn't answer. She growled and twisted, yelping when magic closed around her. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone. Only me. You don't have the right to keep me here."_

_The Queen's brow lifted. "Oh?"_

_Emme leveled her stare, using strength she didn't feel to keep steady. She had felt the soft tingles of her magic during the last month. If she could just grab it, she could get out of here._

_She'll be angry…_

_It didn't matter. What happened here didn't matter unless it effected the future. That was where her life was. That was where she needed to be and those were the people she needed to be concerned with._

_"I'm done playing your games." She grabbed hold of her magic, willing it forward. She focused all of her pain and anger, using every lesson Regina had taught her._

_Nothing happened. The tingles in her blood surged, but the magic stayed locked inside, leaving her at the Queen's mercy._

_The strike to her face was quick, a sharp sting on her left cheek. The grip in her hair tightened and Emma was yanked forward, the Queen's face only a breath away._

_"Why are you here, Emma?" The Queen's breath brushed her burning cheeks, tickling her lips. "What law did you break?"_

_"I didn't - Stop!" Her scalp seared, stopping her the defense she had prepared._

_"If I have to ask you again, I'm not going to be happy. You've already shown a fair amount of disrespect tonight. Do you really want to add lying to the list? I expect more from my girl."_

_Emma shook her head, the Queen's disappointment throwing her off guard._

_"Try again."_

_"I helped Snow White," Emma murmured._

_"Come again?"_

_Emma took a deep break and cleared her throat, swallowing the acid swirling in her stomach. "I helped Snow White escape you."_

_"And where should you be for the crimes you committed?"_

_Emma bit her lip. She didn't want to answer._

_"Emma." The fingers beneath her chin were soft. The Queen nuzzled against her cheek and her muscles relaxed. "Where should I have left you?" The Queen whispered, the bite falling from her words._

_"In the dungeon. Or on my way to a pubic execution."_

_"But I didn't do that, did I? I forgave you. I believed you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, didn't I?"_

_Emma nodded. The Queen didn't know how true her words were. "Yes."_

_"But there still had to be a price to pay for your crimes. What was that, Emma?"_

_She stayed silent, blinking the sting from her eyes. She knew where this was going. She also knew she wouldn't be able to hold out much longer against the gentle affection, lulling her into a sense of security. "Please."_

_"Answer me."_

_Emma's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Me."_

_"And who do you belong to?"_

_"You," she whispered._

_"Yes." The Queen relaxed her hold, allowing Emma to straighten. "Did I give you permission to eat?"_

_"No."_

_Eyelashes fluttered against Emma's cheek. "Good girl."_

_The words sent a chill down Emma's spine, pleasure, fear and desire co-mingling inside her. Magic gripped her arms and legs, stretching her in midair. If she thought the whipping she received her first night was bad, it paled in comparison to the pain she felt now. The first whipping wasn't really punishment. It was a method the Queen used to break her resistance. She never once broke skin. She hadn't even put her full strength into it, a fact Emma now appreciated._

_The Queen let the whip fly, tearing flesh from Emma's back and a scream from her throat. Nothing had ever hurt this badly. Not the broken leg she got falling out of a tree when she was eight, or the blisters left by the belt of her foster mother when she was ten. Her body flailed against the magical restraints, holding her wrists and ankles. The world began to tilt. The furniture blurred together and her surroundings became hazy._

_By the time the Queen reached ten, Emma's throat burned. Bile churned in her stomach, threatening to expel the small bite of chicken she'd swallowed. It no longer seemed worth it._

_"Drink.' The Queen held a goblet to her lips and Emma shook her head._

_"I can't," she rasped._

_"Be my good girl."_

_Emma broke and sipped, her inhale sharp as the potion dissolved her pain. The Queen's magic released and Emma dropped into her arms. Her injuries may have healed but her body was spent. Her legs trembled when she tried to right herself. Eventually she quit trying, allowing the Queen help her into bed._

_"Who do you belong to?"_

_Emma's eyes fluttered closed, a flurry of emotion rising in her chest. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes as she struggled to hold herself together. She knew she was losing that battle. No matter how her mind screamed for her to resist, her body and heart didn't have any fight left at the moment. She was cracked and fragmented, needing arms to hold her and tell her it was alright. "You."_

_The Queen kissed her temple and she snuggled into her side._

_Traitor._

The voice in the back of her mind was a soft growl, which grew quieter over the next couple weeks. The Queen repeated the punishment every evening over the next five days, during which Emma was denied a chance to earn her super. Because of her low blood sugar, she rarely made it to the count of ten before passing out under the Queen's skilled hand. She made sure Emma felt it though, waiting for her to regain consciousness before giving her the healing potion.

Emma never again attempted to eat without the Queen's permission. She played her games, obeying whatever task the Queen felt necessary for her to earn her meals. Sometimes it was giving up control and letting the Queen feed her. Other times Emma was expected to perform, pleasuring herself or the Queen before she could eat. If the Queen was really happy, she'd take only a kiss. Those were the nights Emma knew she'd lost something, given up a part of herself. She didn't always know what that part was, but the kiss was her reward for letting go, and something Emma craved. She worshipped the Queen's mouth, the way her lips melded against her own, the sweet taste intoxicating. She learned not to hold back her whimpers when the Queen tugged at her hair, or nipped at her skin. The more Emma gave, the more she was given. She hated the Queen's displeasure, bot because of the pain that followed. She was addicted to her praise and affection, making her body recoil as she thought about the food in front of her.

"She's not here," Emma whispered. She didn't belong to her anymore. She never really had. The Queen's memories were gone. Emma had restored the present. She could have breakfast.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the cabinet. She grabbed a box of Captain Crunch and took a deep breath. It was just cereal. She wasn't betraying anyone by eating chemically generated sugar berries. Still, she couldn't bring herself to pour them in the bowl. Maybe she should just eat out of the box.

She popped the top open and reached inside, giving a startled yelp when the phone in her pocket chimed. The box fell to the floor, dumping blue and red pieces under the table and fridge.

"Shit!" Emma fumbled for her phone, swiping her thumb over the cracked screen. "Hello?"

The line crackled on the other end. "Hey! You're up! Are you on your way?"

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. It was just David. "Yeah. Sorry. I over slept."

"You were out cold last night. You okay?"

"Yeah. I just wasn't feeling well. I think I picked up a stomach bug."

Maybe he would believe it.

_Right. Like that would account for the way you look._

"Do you need to stay home today? I can probably handle things here."

"No!" Emma snapped and winced. Being home alone was the last thing she wanted. Too much time and silence was definitely not what she needed. Besides, calling out meant placing a call to Regina. She wasn't ready for that. She wasn't sure she'd ever be. Emma steadied her voice, inhaling slowly. "Sorry. No. I'm feeling better."

"Okay. Well if you feel up to it, you want to pick us up some donuts on the way in?"

"Sure. Fine. I can do that. See you in a few minutes." Emma ended the call and grabbed the broom. At least she didn't have to worry about breakfast for a little while. She could get her head together by the time she reached the station. She just needed to forget about the dream and focus on her job.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay getting this chapter up. It ended up being way longer than anticipated. Also, there is possible triggers in this chapter for violence and a lot of psychological abuse. Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The door bell chimed over Emma’s head. She had forgotten about the tell-tale sound of a new arrival. Eyes lifted from the leather upholstered booths, glancing in her direction. Most of them quickly returned to their business, but a few curious stares lingered, including the one belonging to the diner’s proprietor.  
Granny fixed her with her scrutinizing gaze, studying Emma from head-to-tow over her spectacles. 

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked in a familiar gruff that sounded more wolf than her grand-daughter. 

“I didn’t sleep well.”

Granny snorted. “Right. And I woke up old and cranky. You really expect people to buy that tall tale? Lack of sleep don’t make a person look like they just crawled out of their own grave.”  
Emma rolled her eyes. Of course Granny noticed. She was tough as nails and quick minded. Combined with her sharp senses, there wasn’t a lot she missed.

“I need some donuts for the station.”

“Preferences?”

Emma shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Granny set her notepad on the counter. “You usually have a list a mile long of the donuts your plan to personally eat.”  
The expression on Granny’s face was closer to an accusation than a question, making Emma’s palms sticky with sweat. She could see the Queen in the same position, hand pressed to the stone table as she leaned forward, her dark eyes cold and penetrating. They pierced Emma, displaying the Queen’s displeasure without a word. 

She wiped her hands on her jeans. The material shifted with her movement, the fabric bunching from the extra space left by her legs. Inside, she grimaced. “I wasn’t feeling well last night.”

Granny pursed her lips. “Well, at least that lie make a little more sense.” She fastened the top on a cup of hot chocolate and handed it to Emma.

“It isn’t a lie.” Not technically anyway. Her stomach had been sick more than once since returning home. Practically every other minute, really.

“Maybe not,” Granny agreed, handing over the bag of donuts. “But it isn’t the truth either.”

Emma’s heart picked up as she dug a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket. Maybe she should have stayed home. Or took a leave of absence. At least until her color returned to normal.

And do what? Hide out in the loft? She’d go stir crazy just sitting there. She didn’t trust herself enough to be alone right now. She wasn’t sure she could handle it. However, she also wasn’t sure tackling the town was the best idea either. She looked like a kicked puppy on the way over here, constantly looking over her shoulder. She tried to tell herself she just didn’t want to run into any-one who would ask too many questions. People like Granny. Deep down, she knew who she was really looking for.  
Despite the time of day, she half expected Regina to walk through the door. She knew Regina was already at work. Unless there was a crisis to attend to, Regina didn’t deviate from her schedule. Still, Emma wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed to have avoided her.

Her stomach pitched and rolled as she thought about facing the former Queen. Relieved. She was definitely relieved. No matter how much she tried to separate the two in her mind, she knew there was no way to not see the Queen when she finally saw the Mayor. She was barely in control of her emotions now. How was she supposed to hide the instinct she had to fall to her knees when she heard Regina’s voice? How long could she fight the urge to clasp her hands and assume her taught pose of submission? Regina would notice. Emma was certain. And then what?

They couldn’t just go back to their lives if Regina knew the truth. There was a good chance Regina wouldn’t even be able to look at her. Emma wasn’t able to listen to last night’s voicemail, but she’d read the transcript. Regina saw the portal and told her to stay away from it. Obviously she hadn’t received those instructions, but did it matter?   
Her mouth went dry each time she thought about it. The Queen wouldn’t care. Emma had disobeyed by going to the barn in the first place. She knew the punishment for that if she were back in the Enchanted Forest.

_But you aren’t._

No. She wasn’t. Regina wouldn’t punish her. She would lecture her and maybe give her the silent treatment for a few days. Except that she hadn’t just disregarded her orders. If Regina found out about Emma’s time with the Queen, she wasn’t sure Regina would ever speak to her again. 

And why should she? You almost destroyed the future. You entered into a relationship with her that she wouldn't choose today and you stole her memories of it. She should whip you.

But she wouldn’t. 

Disappointment coated Emma’s stomach like heavy lead. She frowned, confused by her desire for penance, as Granny passed back her change.

“Whatever it is, your secrets are safe with me. I won’t pry. Just know I’m here if you get in over your head.”

“I think it’s a little too late.”

Granny patted her hand and Emma turned for the door, keeping her pace steady as she walked outside. The fresh air calmed her nerves and Emma sighed, but her relief short-lived.

“Swan!”

“Great,” Emma groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. She really wasn’t in the mood for this right now. Why couldn’t he take a hint and leave her alone?

Hook jogged up beside her, flashing a smile she didn’t reciprocate. A few months ago, she’d found his wit engaging, maybe even a little charming. A lot had changed since then. She had changed a lot since then. Still, she wasn’t sure what she could have possibly been thinking. His persistence was smothering. His suave gestures curdled her insides. She wanted him away from her. Far away. Like half-way back to Neverland away.

Emma increased her pace. “I’m headed to work.”

“I figured. I thought I’d walk you.”

Of course he did. Like a pet. Or mental patient. “I don’t need a personal guard, if that’s what you think.”

“Maybe I just thought we could talk. Enjoy each other’s company-“

“I’m really not in the mood for company. Or for talking,” Emma interrupted, pulling up short. She really wasn’t sure why she attempted to brush him off. Hook wasn’t good with hints, or he just didn’t care. If they didn’t have it out now, he’d follow her to the station and she didn’t need him camped out in the corner. “I have nothing to say to you.”

His face sobered. His light-hearted grin was replaced by tight lips and a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you think we should at least get our stories straight? If you don’t want to tell anyone about what happened, then we should both be on the same page.”

Emma fisted the donut bag, knuckles turning white as she scrunched the paper folds. “Didn’t we cover this last night?”

“Aye, love. And I still think you’re making a big mistake keeping this to yourself.”

“You mean keeping this from you?”

How naive did he think she was? She knew this wasn’t about her needs. He was just worried about what the Queen had done with her. What she had done with the Queen. This was about his ego.

“Swan, I’m just concerned.”

“Right,” she hissed, leaning towards him. “Concerned that the Queen had what you wanted?”

“Swan,” he repeated. He lifted a pacifying hand. “Do you think there is anything you could tell me that I don’t already know? That I couldn’t guess?”

_He doesn’t know you liked it. The Queen’s voice filled her mind. He doesn’t know you miss it. Or that you wish I was behind you right now, whispering in your ear, holding you in my arms, massaging you with my hands. He doesn’t know you’re mine; that you gave yourself to me willingly, does he? Does he know you still want me, Emma?_

“Did you forget I was around back then? Both times,” Hook continued. “I know what the Queen was like.”

“No. I didn’t forget.” How could she? He was there the entire time the Queen held her captive, and he’d left her there. He didn’t come to her rescue. And now he wanted to be her hero? Now he wanted to be a shoulder she could lean on and depend on? She saved herself. She got herself out of the Queen’s castle and she got them back home.   
  
_Emma stared into the dark. She had spent the last six hours deliberating, her insides twisting as she considered her options. Her magic had finally unlocked, the white flare of power bursting from her finger tips in a fit of desperation. The Queen had chained her ankles, making it impossible for her to leave the bedroom. She’d panicked. Snow White was nearby, and so was her father. And Hook. They were all together somehow. She hadn’t overheard much, only that the Queen had failed to kill her mother. Again._  
 _For one second, she forgot where she was. She forgot the rules._

_“She’s with a pirate?” Emma asked the guard who’d soldier. “What did he look like?”_

_The soldier regarded her skeptically, steel gray eyes sizing her up. She wasn’t supposed to talk to him. She wasn’t supposed to talk to any of them. Eventually he decided not speaking to her might hold a worse fate if she knew something. “Do you know him?”_

_His question made Emma pause, her good sense coming back to her. It was too late. Purple smoke wafted around her, fingers tangling in her hair. Her head jerked back, exposing her throat._

_“Of course she does,” the Queen snarled. “And she’s going to tell us what else she knows. Aren’t you, Emma?”_

_She froze, her tongue twisting as she wracked her mind for a suitable answer that wouldn’t destroy everything. That wouldn’t destroy her._

_“Why don’t I tell you what I know,” the Queen continued. “You were with the pirate the night I captured you. He was disguised just as you were. He helped Snow White. He’s continued to help her several times since then. Do you know what that means for you, if you’ve kept information from me?”_

_Emma clasped the Queen’s hand, trying without success to loosen her tight grip. “I haven’t kept any- that from you.”_

_The Queen’s head tilted. “What have you kept from me, my girl? There’s something you’re not telling me? About Snow White?”_

_Emma bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say. There were many things she had kept from the Queen. So many things she could never tell her. Doing so wouldn’t just ruin her life or parents. It would ruin everyone’s, including the Queen’s._

_She also couldn’t lie. The Queen would know. She knew Emma too well. No matter what Emma said at this point, it wouldn’t be enough. Her time in the Enchanted Forest had just run out. She needed to get out of the castle, find Hook, and get back to the present. Her parents were still on their path. The fact the Emma still existed was proof of that, but the past was catching up to her. If she didn’t get back to her own time soon, her luck would run out._

_Tears welled in her yes, her heart plummeting in her chest as she stared at the face of the Queen. Could she really leave her? Nails tore at her chest, her lungs constricting. She belonged to the Queen. Leaving was a betrayal. It was treason. “I can’t.”_

_“Very well.” The Queen took her words as affirmation of her decision to protect Snow. Smoke surrounded them, and the courtyard disappeared. They landed in the Queen’s bedchamber, Emma shackled by her ankles to a thick chain. It stretched the width of the bed, allowing her to move around it, but otherwise kept her confined. She was trapped._

_The Queen gazed down at her, a small frown gracing her lips. “I thought we’d come so much further than this.”_

_“We have.” Emma reached for her and the Queen stepped back. Couldn’t she see? This wasn’t what Emma wanted. She wanted to be the Queen’s girl. She wanted to make her proud, to feel strong arms close around her. “Please.”_

_“Trust and privileges are earned. How am I supposed to give you either?” She turned on her heel, a wave of her hand opening the door in front of her._

_Emma panicked. She couldn’t leave like this. She needed to make things right. Or as right as they could be. She couldn’t stand the Queen’s disappointment. She also couldn’t stay chained. Every moment she remained trapped, Hook and her parents slipped further away, and so did whatever window they had left to return to the present before they changed history for good. She had to stop her, to make her see. “Regina, please!”_

_Emma cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. In all her time with the Queen, she somehow managed to keep Regina separated from her. Faced with home, reality was seeping back in._

_The Queen turned slowly, her eyes burning embers. “Pardon me? I know I couldn’t have heard you right?” She crept closer, her steps like a predator closing in on its prey. “Did you not learn your lesson last time?” The Queen’s hand trailed up her arm, fingering the neckline of her top. “You clearly haven’t learned to tell the truth. Or how not to speak to those you have no_ _permission to converse with. Have you?”_

_Emma shook her head._

_The Queen dropped her hand. “Get comfortable, Emma.You won’t be going anywhere for a while.” She disappeared and the door slammed shut._

_Emma tugged at the chains cursing under her breath. She had really messed up this time. Not only was the future on the line again, her life might be too. The Queen had chained her up, but considering everything that had just happened, shackles were a slap on the wrist. There was no way that was the end of it, meaning something worse was coming. Something Emma couldn’t even begin to contemplate._

_It wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t supposed to speak with anyone but the servants and guards assigned to her. She was usually good about that. She’d only slipped up once before. The Queen’s father had introduced himself and Emma was foolish enough to respond. Her reprimand wasn’t immediate. Emma hadn’t even thought twice about the brief exchange, until later that night. She paid for her error in judgement. The riding crop colored her back, and Emma was placed in solitary confinement for a week._

_That was way worse than this. She was locked in a small room, hardly bigger than a clothes closet. She was given a pillow and a thin blanket, which was more than she expected. Still it did little to keep out the cold. The stone floor scraped at her injuries. The Queen didn’t leave permanent marks, just welts that smarted no matter which way she attempted to lay. Eventually she fell asleep sitting up, her head tucked against her knees._

_The bucket was the worst. It sat in the corner, a place for her to relieve her bladder. The guards changed it out twice a day, but in the small space, the smell of urine choked the air. After almost spilling it, Emma learned to hold her bladder, only going when she knew the guards would change it out soon._   
_The only reprieve from the dark silence came in the evenings when the Queen brought her dinner and a wash basin full of warm water. She slid to the floor next to Emma, wordlessly removing Emma’s garments. The wool cloth scratched as it cleaned, wiping away cold sweat and grime._

_“Thank you,” Emma whispered._

_“Lift your arms for me.” Emma complied and the Queen ran the damp rag along her ribs, massaging each breast until Emma moaned softly. “Such a good girl,” she murmured. She kissed her temple, trailing down her jawline to nip at Emma’s throat._

_Emma tilted her head back, her breaths turning to soft gasps. “Please.”_

_“Please what, Emma? How do you address your Queen?”_

_“Please, My Queen. Please take me with you. Let me sleep with you. I’ll be good. I promise.” She clung to the woman’s gown, tears dampening the Queen’s dark hair._

_One day in the closet was enough to encourage her to plead for forgiveness. After several days, Emma was on the verge of a breakdown. The darkness played tricks on her mind, colors and images appearing in the shadows. Sometimes she heard voices. At first they were soft whispers, words she could barely make out. Eventually they grew stronger and more familiar. They were the voices of her old foster families. They were the new kids at every school she ever attended. She heard the voices of her fellow inmates from jail and the employers who had let her go. They tormented her, opening old wounds and stirring up old fears._

_‘You’re worthless.’_

_‘How could anyone love you?’_

_‘Your parents abandoned you. They threw you out. They knew you were trash.’_

_They were unending, pushing and prodding at Emma’s resolve. She covered her ears and rocked back and forth, speaking the truth out loud. Her parents hadn’t thrown her away. They attempted to save her in their own misguided way. They loved her. Henry loved her. Hook. Regina. The Queen._

_Did the Queen love her? She was there for Emma in so many ways no one had ever been before. Even after her disobedience, the Queen took the time to take care of her and comfort her. She kissed and held her until she fell asleep, telling her stories of magic and desire, of the future they could have together if Emma chose her. Why? Why would she bother if she only wanted obedience? If this was only a game?_

_Her instincts told her it wasn’t. There was definitely passion between them. The Queen’s eyes darkened to shiny black coal as her fingers traced Emma’s body. Her kisses consumed but didn’t conquer. They coaxed and seduced, holding on to Emma as if she were a precious treasure. Emma had one super power. She could detect a lie. She felt it in her soul, covering her like black, sticky tar. But her interactions with Queen, for the most part felt genuine, leaving Emma to wonder if the Queen wasn’t looking for something more than a prisoner. She had power and servants. She had an army and a kingdom, but from what Emma could tell she didn’t have a companion, a genuine friend. It was all power struggles, games and alliances._   
_Emma of course wasn’t foolish enough to say that. She also knew better than to let her guard down. Still it was thoughts of the Queen’s affection toward her that chased the voices away, that made her feel safe and protected._

_The Queen held her closer. “You’ve promised to be good before, my girl. You promised me you could follow my rules.”_

_“I know.” She wiped at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to break them.”_

_A finger lifted Emma’s chin. “If you didn’t mean to break them, then how can I know you won’t do it again? I think this lesson needs to be learned.”_

_“It was.” Emma hated the high pitched whine in her voice and the obvious desperation she failed to hide. She was never good at being trapped. Especially in the dark. Not since she was four and her second family locked her in a closet for days. She was much older now, but deep inside, there was part of her that didn’t know that; a part of her that wanted to hit and kick and smash her way out. This wasn’t supposed to happen to her anymore._

_The Queen’s gentle kissed, drew her attention back. This wasn’t the same. Her foster parents never came to the closet to check on her. They didn’t make sure her needs were met. They didn’t give her a place to use the bathroom, or meals. They definitely didn’t spend time with her each evening, comforting her. This was a punishment. What more did she expect from the Evil Queen? She’d honestly expected a lot less. She expected her to be cold and violent, cruel. She saw none of those traits in the woman holding her._

_“Please,” Emma whispered again._

_The Queen pursed her lips. “I want to release you, Emma. But I need to be sure.”_

_“I will be more careful.”_

_“That’s not the lesson you should be learning, dear.”_

_Emma scrunched up her brow. “What is?”_

_“That you are mine. I decide who I trust you with.”_

_“You don’t trust your father?”_

_The Queen’s eyes narrowed in silent warning and Emma’s mouth snapped shut. “That’s not the point, is it?”_

_Emma shook her head._

_“What is the point, Emma?”_

_“You didn’t give me permission to speak with him.”_

_“Mmmm… “ The Queen agreed. She wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist, lifting her over her lap. Their lips met and Emma rose up on her knees for better access, the Queen’s fingers tangling in her hair. She lost herself in the kiss. It was all soft nips and sighs, as the Queen’s tongue passed through parted lips, claiming her mouth._

_Breaking apart, Emma buried herself in the Queen’s neck. Apple spice filled her lungs with each breath. The taste coated her lips as she kissed her bare shoulder. In the small room, there was only the sound of their pounding hearts, rustling fabric and breathless moans. The normally cold chill turned to electric heat. Emma’s skin flushed and she rotated over the Queen’s thighs, her center throbbing. Soft fingers met slick folds and Emma’s head fell back. A guttural moan rumbled deep in her chest, and she ground harder into the Queen’s firm hand._

_Her climax started in her toes, tingling as it traveled up her legs. Her muscles tightened and Emma’s finger’s clasped the Queen’s dress. When sharp teeth graze her nipple, Emma fell, tumbling over the edge as quakes ravaged her body._

_“That’s it, Emma. Let it out.”_

_Emma sank to the floors, her eyes heavy as the Queen cradled her in the wool blanket. Her head found the Queen’s lap and she licked her lips, the smell of the Queen’s arousal a potent aphrodisiac. She gripped at the Queen’s thigh, groaning when steady fingers brushed her hand away._

_“Two more days.”_

_“In here?” Emma asked groggily._

_The Queen nodded. “And then you can show me how much you desire your Queen.”_

_Emma was so careful after that. No matter who was around, she kept her focus on the ground, or on the Queen. Most of the time, she tuned out other conversation entirely. It was easier that way. No temptations. She hadn’t even bulked at the mention of Snow that last day. She was used to the name coming up by then. No, it was the mention of Hook, of knowing he was out there with her parents, doing who knew what._

_And, why? What was the purpose? Her parents were obviously back on track. So why was he still with them? Why wasn’t he looking for her? Why hadn’t he tried to save her? It had been three months. It wasn’t like he really could say he was getting around to it. She honestly thought he was dead. She imagined him trying to save her and the Queen destroying him._   
_She hadn’t let her thoughts linger there too long. Thinking about losing her once chance at freedom meant accepting that she might never make it back to Storybrook or Henry. Even if she did, without Hook, her world would be changed. She would have to live with his death on her shoulders. But knowing Hook had survived was just as bad. He was out there and hadn’t tried to save her._

_Worse was the part of Emma that realized she had stopped wanting him too. She stopped caring if she escaped. She stopped thinking about her friends and family. All except Henry. He was the only reason she wanted to get back to the future, the only part of her the Queen hadn’t stripped away. Really he was the only part of her she had managed to keep hidden from her captor. She guarded him fiercely, and now he was the reason she couldn’t stay trapped, chained to the wall._

_She tugged at the shackles, her eyes puffy and swollen. Her emotions were a tumultuous storm. She felt the crushing weight of the portal home closing, but also the loss of the Queen’s affection. Guilt assaulted her with each tug of the chains, but she couldn’t stop. They would lose Henry if she didn’t get free, both of them._

_The panic vibrated through her fingers and a bright flash filled the room. The shackles opened, slipping to the stone floor. She had done it. She had reached her magic._   
_Emma eased to the door and touched the handle. Her body froze. What was she doing? Her heart lurched, a sharp pain twisting in her chest. The Queen was already upset with her, something Emma ached to fix. She hated the steel gaze. She wanted to make it right and hear the Queen tell her she was proud and Emma was a her good girl._

_It wouldn’t happen. Not this time. There was nothing Emma could do. Not without telling the Queen the whole truth. It wasn’t an option._

_Still, she couldn’t make herself go. She decided instead to wait. It was broad daylight. Even with her magic, she couldn’t avoid every guard in her path. Nightfall was better. The castle would be quieter, and this way, Emma could see the Queen one last time, even if it did mean she faced the consequences of her secret. She locked the shackles back in place and waited._   
_When the Queen was finally asleep that night, Emma made her escape. She ran right for Gold’s castle, knowing she would need a new disguise if she was going to make it home. When the Queen woke, Snow White wouldn’t be the only one she searched for._

_It was days before she found Hook. He looked at her, his mouth hanging open like a codfish._

_“You’re alive?”_

_She pulled back her arm and let her fist fly, her knuckles connecting with his jaw._

He tried to speak with her later, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it. She didn’t want to hear it now either. She just wanted him to stop talking and leave her alone. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Killian. There’s too much that’s happened. Too much that didn’t happen.”

“Didn’t happen?”

“You weren’t there for me then and-“

“We’ve been through this!” Hook threw his arms up. “I tried to save you. By the time I made it to the dungeon you gone. I thought she killed you. I thought I failed.”

“So you just went skipping off into the forest.” Emma knew she was being cruel. She knew Hook had grieved for her, drowning his sorrows in a bottle of rum. It didn’t matter though. She just needed him to accept it was over and to move on. She couldn't give him what he wanted. “You gave up.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought if I could guide your parents back to each other, then at least there would still be an Emma Swan some day.”

Emma grimaced. He had done the right thing. In his situation she might have done the same, except she couldn’t imagine ever giving up on someone she claimed to love. Not until she saw the body. But he had. Even though he had help her parents and saved her future, he still gave up on her. 

“Give me another chance, Emma. Please.”

“You don’t get it, do you. This isn’t about forgiving you. I’ve changed in ways you will never understand. It doesn’t matter that you know what the Queen was like. You can’t understand this and I can't talk to you about it. You’re too close to the situation, Killian.”

“Too close to the situation or too close to you?” He accused.

She sighed, her head pounding in her temples. “Both. Whatever we had together… I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be with you.”

“I’m not asking for a long-term commitment. I just want to be there for you.”

“And I told you I need space. You want to be there for me? You can’t even respect the one thing I’ve asked you for.”  
They stared at each other in silence, Emma’s hand resting on the station door. Finally Hook nodded. “If that’s what you want, love.” He turned away from her. “Let me know if you need any help cleaning up after the witch.”

Emma pulled the door open. “David will call you if we do.”

She didn’t wait for his reply. She ducked inside using magic to seal the door behind her. She didn’t think he was stupid enough to come back, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“There you are.” David came around the desk, hugging her briefly before taking the bag of donuts. “I was starting to get worried.”

“I’m fine.”

Emma’s shoulders relaxed as she breathed him in. His scent was familiar: forest pine, leather and earth, tinted with men’s cologne. Just being near him made her feel safe. It always had. She never understood why, though she speculated it was a distant memory of him carrying her to the closet, holding her against his chest while he fought for their lives. She’d never had that same feeling with Snow. They had a connection, sure. Snow felt familiar to her long before she knew who she really was. But only her dad’s presence helped put her at ease. They’re relationship was still developing. They had obviously missed the opportunity for him to truly be her father. Their relationship now was still familial though. Kind of like a paternal older brother. They could joke and laugh, and just be silly together. She always knew he had her back.

“I ran into Hook on the way here.”

“Everything okay?” He dumped the donuts onto a paper plate, holding it out to her. 

“We’re just not seeing eye-to-eye right now.”

Emma grabbed a plain donut. Normally, she went for the frosted or cream filled kind, but she wasn’t sure she could stomach that. Or that she should stomach it. If she was going to eat, it needed to be out of necessity. She didn’t feel as guilty if she wasn’t enjoying it.

David sat on his desk, lifting a glass of cocoa to his lips. “I thought things were going well between you two?”  
Emma shrugged, twirling the pastry around her pointer finger. “It takes a while sometimes to find out if your compatible.”

“Or you just know,” he said around a bite of donut. “I know that’s not the world you grew up in, but you were born in our world. What does your gut say?”

_That my heart isn’t mine to give away._

The Queen may have left her heart in her chest, but it no longer felt like her own. She could practically feel the Queen’s fingers, curling around the soft flesh, squeezing gently.  
Emma cleared her throat. “I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

David nodded. “If that’s how you feel, we support you. Just make sure, Emma. Your mother and I didn’t always get along at first.”

“I know.” She’d witnessed their banter firsthand and almost erased their entire history. “I don’t think this is the same situation.”

“Okay.”

Emma brought the donut to her lips, inhaled and bit down with her front teeth. 

_Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think. Just swallow._

She forced down the small bite and took another.

“You think you’ll be okay to work today?” David asked, watching her.

She licked her lips, reaching for a bottle of water. No way was she about to attempt the hot cocoa. She unscrewed the cap and sipped. “I can handle it.”

“Good. We have a lot of ground to cover today. Regina called before you got here. She’s on her way over.”

Emma’s heart froze in her chest, sending ice through her veins. She could feel the blood draining from her face as the donut fell from her hand. For a second, she just stared at it, watching the pastry roll towards the jail cell on the other side of the room. “How long ago did she call?”

“Maybe ten minutes.” It only took five minutes to get here from City Hall. “Are you alright?”

Emma bolted for the back door. “I think I’m going to be sick.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone. I wanted to thank everyone for all the amazing comments on this story. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but I really wanted to do a short chapter from Regina's POV. There will probably be a couple chapters from her perspective throughout the story. However, I am already hard at work on Emma's next chapter and hope to have it up by the end of the week.

The flash of blonde caught Regina’s eye as she navigated the Benz into the station parking lot. She glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing. From her vantage point, she could just make out Emma’s red jacket. The Sheriff darted between the trees and disappeared into the woods.   
  
Regina frowned, pulling her phone from her purse. She had no missed calls, and could see no reason for Emma to be running to the forest at full speed. Not unless there was a new crises her staff had neglected to tell her about.  
  
She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped onto the pavement. She had tried several times to get ahold of Emma in the last twenty-four hours, and was starting to get annoyed. No. She was far passed annoyed. She was starting to get worried. With each failed attempt to reach her Sheriff, an unsteady weight built in the pit of her stomach. Obviously Emma wasn’t physically harmed. She wouldn’t be running like that if she were seriously injured, which meant there was something else going on, something she wasn’t yet aware of. Or Emma was avoiding her.   
  
She found David with his feet up on the desk, licking powdered sugar from his fingertips. It was moments like these she was unable to deny Emma was from the Charming family tree. It was also these moments she knew exactly who to blame for the girl’s bad manners. Emma had bounced from one foster family to the next, but still inherited her father’s bad habit of putting his feet on the furniture.  
  
“Comfortable?” Regina smacked his boot and his leg slid to the floor. “I guess that answers my question.” One of them at least.   
  
Charming’s brow creased, a look of confusion falling over his statuesque face. “What question?”  
  
“Is there an emergency I am unaware of?”  
  
“No,” he answered around a bite of donut. He swallowed and slid the plate away at her look of reproof. Both he and Emma knew how she felt about food in the workplace. There was a cafeteria across the hall for a reason, the main one being to avoid a vermin infestation. Having the pirate around was bad enough. They didn’t need rats too.  
  
David stood up, hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and leaned back against the desk. “Why would you think that?”  
  
“Perhaps the declining performance of Storybrook’s law enforcement?”   
  
He looked incredulous. “It’s just breakfast, Regina. I didn’t have time to eat this morning.”  
  
Of course he thought she was referring to the food. Regina shook her head and crouched, picking a donut up from the floor. Perhaps they already had vermin. “Where’s Emma?”  
  
Charming’s shoulders visibly relaxed as if her question wasn’t cause for concern. Maybe it wasn’t. But the nagging in her gut wasn’t so certain. This wasn’t like Emma. It never had been. The Sheriff had always returned her calls, long before the two of them became friends.  
  
“She left,” David answered. “She wasn’t feeling well.” He gestured to the donut she held between her thumb and forefinger. “She picked up a stomach bug.”  
  
Regina raised an eyebrow. “ _This_ was Emma’s?  
  
Normally the girl annihilated donuts in a matter of two bites. There was maybe a small nibble from the pastry in question. She couldn’t even discern teeth marks.  
  
“She got sick as soon as she tried to eat it.” Charming shrugged. “I told her she didn’t have to come in. We couldn’t even wake her up last night.”  
  
“And you’re sure that’s the problem?” Regina tossed the donut in the trash and dusted the remnants from her gloves. Emma being ill explained away some of her recent behavior. Regina’s unanswered calls could be excused away if Emma really was sleeping off a virus, but she hadn’t answered this morning either. At the very least, Emma usually sent her a text, letting her know she was okay. She had instilled the importance of common curtesy in both Emma and Henry. At least she thought she had. She made it clear when Emma became a frequent visitor in her home that there was a certain decorum she expected. She didn’t require a lot. She only asked that they inform each other of any change of plans. How hard was that?  
  
But Emma hadn’t texted. She continually sent Regina’s calls to voicemail, which she had only done one other time. It was the result of a broken vase in Regina’s office. The girl’s guilt had her avoiding Regina like the plague, dashing out of the diner and holing up at the loft. Her Sheriff may have a knack for discerning truth but she was a terrible liar, and hopeless at hiding her feelings. She wore her guilt on her sleeve, something else she had picked up from her father. Snow rarely showed guilt, and when she did, she became a martyr, condemning herself melodramatically. Regina had forgiven Snow much in the last few years, but Snow’s inability to see fault continually drove her far passed her capacity for patience.  
  
“She definitely looked sick,” Charming stated.  
  
“Meaning?”  
  
“She looked sick.”  
  
Regina rolled her eyes. Maybe it was time to investigate curses to eradicate incompetence.   
  
“Do you you think you could elaborate?”  
  
“I don’t know, Regina. She looked off. She was really pale.”  
  
“Did you actually observe her getting sick?”  
  
“No. I told you, she was asleep when Snow and I got home. I went to bed after that.”

Regina shut her eyes and inhaled slowly. Was their entire household oblivious? He was the town’s deputy. He was supposed to pay attention to details. Instead he ignored them, missing crucial information that could offer them insight. She knew Emma was a grown woman, but she couldn’t fathom how they failed to see concerning behaviors in their own child. She knew the minute something was wrong with Henry. She was fairly descent at picking up Emma’s tells as well.

Regina sighed. If Emma was sick, she’d managed to convince David at least. However, convincing Charming didn’t take a considerable amount of skill. Emma’s word was all he needed. That didn’t mean Emma had a virus. Henry had several in his grade school years. There were symptoms before the actual vomiting: nausea and fatigue. Emma appeared fine yesterday afternoon. She was her normal exuberant self. She hadn’t exhibited even mild symptoms.

And then there was her jog through the woods. No one with a stomach virus could run with that kind of stamina. You were lucky to move without emptying contents of your stomach.

“Why are you asking me all of this? I’m sure Emma will fill out the proper paperwork-“

“I’m not worried about the paperwork, Charming. I’m worried about Emma.”

“It’s just a virus. She probably went home-“  
  
“She didn’t. She ran into the forest. Her car is still parked down the street near Granny’s. Care to explain that?”

Charming opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. She hoped he didn’t strain himself too hard coming up with an answer. She would be short her Sheriff and her Deputy. They didn’t have time for that. The town was a mess. Half of Storybrook’s citizens were without power, and they still needed to do a sweep of the barn. The portal hadn’t been open long, but it didn’t need to be for something to find its way through.

“Maybe it has something to do with Hook,” David speculated. “They had some kind of falling out.”

Regina pursed her lips. It was possible. Heartache was capable of causing immeasurable pain. She knew that all too well. The retreat to the woods could be the Sheriff coping in typical Emma fashion. She had run. Still, something wasn’t sitting right. Emma and the pirate had just begun dating. The evolution of their relationship was recent, and from what Regina could tell wasn’t exactly fueled by passion. There was more sexual tension between she and Emma in the beginning, and they were attempting to destroy one another. She found it hard to believe Emma really thought her relationship with Hook would last. It was harder to believe Emma would crumble if the fledgling relationship ended. She didn’t doubt there might be some level of disappointment. Hook might have descent qualities buried deep down somewhere… But heartsick? That wasn’t Emma. Not over the pirate.

Regina pulled out her phone, finding Emma’s name at the top of her recent calls. The more she thought about it, the more she was certain there was something more going on. Something was seriously wrong. If there wasn’t, Ms. Swan was in for a severe lecture on respect and proper protocol. She didn’t like being ignored. She enjoyed worrying even less.

She tapped Emma’s name and held the phone to her ear. It rang twice and went voicemail. Again. Regina redialed. This time there was no ring. Emma’s away message was immediate, signaling that she had either turned off her device or terminated her service. The former was most likely. She was going to kill Emma when she finally got ahold of her. 


	5. Chapter 5

Emma didn’t stop when she hit the forest. Her feet pounded the dirt path, drowning out the thud of her heart. That had been close. Too close. Obviously she knew she couldn’t avoid Regina forever, but she needed more time. More than one day. At least enough time to figure out how she would face the Mayor without revealing the past she now shared with the Queen.  
  
If she could make it a few more days, everything would be okay. Once her life got back to normal, she would forget about the Enchanted Forest. The ache for the Queen would subside and she would be okay again. She would.  
  
Who was she kidding? She escaped the dark castle two weeks before she found way back to Storybrook. Her need to be please the Queen, to stand at her side, was just as strong as the day she left. During her childhood, Emma never had the opportunity to experience homesickness. She never really had a home until Henry brought her here. It was strange to think she could love a place so strongly, she would yearn for it if she left. Falling through Zelena’s portal changed everything. She landed on the other side, unharmed but not quite intact. There was a piece of her missing, a Storybrook shaped puzzle piece.   
  
Once in the Queen’s care, the nagging need to get back home started to diminish. The Queen monopolized her attention, which didn’t give her a lot of time to think about anything else. She still missed her family and friends, especially Henry, but the ache subsided. When she escaped, those feelings came back full force, twisting her insides. Only it wasn’t for Storybrook, or even a place. It was for a person. The Queen had become her home.  
  
The loss was an unexpected death. It punched at her gut, knocking the wind from her lungs. No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, she longed for a way back to the Queen. She yearned for the safety of her arms, holding her tightly and claiming her as her own. How was she supposed to keep that from Regina? How was she supposed to stand there and talk to her like she hadn’t given her every piece of herself?  
  
She wouldn’t be able to. Not believably. She knew the moment she saw the former Queen, every habit she fought to suppress would come flooding back. Regina would notice. She always noticed. And Emma would lose not just the Queen a second time, but her friend.  
  
Emma skidded to a stop and doubled over, gasping for breath. She grasped a nearby tree, holding her stomach. The muscles clenched beneath her fingers and she heaved, coughing up nothing. There was nothing inside her to throw up. She hadn’t managed to eat the donut and had only taken a sip of her water. It didn’t matter though. Her stomach attempted to empty itself twice more, a head pounding behind her eyes.   
  
She took a deep breath and stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Stomach acid coated her tongue and Emma spit into the dirt. Where was she? She hadn’t paid attention. Her only goal was to get away before Regina arrived. The path she was on looked vaguely familiar though, and going forward was better than going back the way she came. As long as it was on the opposite side of the station, she was fine with that. She could make her way back to her car and go home. No, not home. She needed to think of somewhere to hide out for awhile. Why couldn’t she have a vault? Somewhere she could lock herself away. She could fill it with video games and her favorite movies, a sort of Emma-cave. She didn’t want to be alone, but maybe if she had enough distractions….   
  
Could her magic make something like that? If it could, it had to be in a book somewhere, and the library was as good a place as any to hideout. No one would expect to find her there, and she could get Belle to keep a secret, at least for a little while. That was all she needed.  
  
Her phone buzzed, breaking her concentration.  
  
“Please be David. Please be David. Please be David.”  
  
She pulled the phone from her jacket and winced. Regina’s name flashed on the broken screen, sending a fresh wave of nausea through her body.   
  
“She’s not the Queen,” Emma told herself. “You don’t have to answer.”   
  
She hit ignore and turned the phone off. It was better not have options. If there was a real emergency, someone would find her. Actually, they probably wouldn’t have to. Town crises weren’t usually subtle. If there was a problem she would know.   
  
She rounded the corner and her heart lurched, jumping into her throat. She was an idiot. Of course this trail looked familiar. She had walked it with Henry, during Operation Cobra. More than a few times. It was the path to Queen’s park, the playground Regina designed after dismantling Henry’s fort.  
  
There weren’t any kids around today. Not with school in session. The Dark Castle loomed over her, silent and imposing. In the shadow of the forest, it was easy to imagine the play-set was the real thing. The slide tower was an exact replica of the pinnacle tower and the bridge easily shifted to form the covered parapet walk. She knew the way to the corner tower from there, and the suite she shared with the Queen.   
  
It was odd how much she hated the room at first. Well not so much the room. It was filled with every comfort, cozy furniture and blankets, rich wood and stone, scented candles and an elaborate collection of books. It was her lack of options she disliked. The Queen chose everything she was given, which wasn’t easy to accept at first. She felt unsteady with her life in someone else’s hands, and the Queen always managed to unnerve her. She didn’t choose Emma’s comforts lightly. Everything was considered carefully, shocking Emma with their forethought and stirring a desire Emma had thought long dead. A need to be cared for.

  
_Emma didn’t remember where she was at first. She smiled as the sun warmed her face, stretching under satin sheets. Her muscles ached, but the feeling wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of pain felt after a good workout, sore but pleasant in its own way. Most of the ache rested in her shoulders and arms. Not uncommon. She had probably lifted something at work._  
  
_Work._

_Images of the station clouded, the events of the previous evening coming back to her. She hadn't been to work in over a week. She wasn’t in Storybook and the ache in her arms was from the vigorous session of Downward Facing Dog the Queen had forced her to hold._  
  
_Her eyes shot open and Emma sat up, clapping a purple blanket to her chest. The sheets should have been her first clue. She didn’t own anything satin, but it wasn’t like she frequently visitor Regina’s either. She rubbed the material between her thumb and forefinger. Some habits died hard, she supposed._  
  
_Glancing around the room, she searched for her captor. She was surprised she was still in the Queen’s bed. She half expected to wake up back in the dungeon, but the Queen had left her there, surrounded by down-stuffed pillows. She had also left her alone. There was no sign of the dark woman, and Emma used her small window of freedom to freely look around. Besides the bed, there was a black chaise and armchair near an iron fenced balcony. The cool morning breeze carried in the sent of pine, rustling dark purple tapestries that hung from the wall. A small table sat in the corner. A plumb colored rug was tucked beneath it. All of it was centered around a large marble fireplace, which was still lined with ropes and pillows._  
  
_Emma cringed, burying her face in her pillow. The scent of apples still clung to the satin case, the taste sickeningly sweet on her tongue. What had she done? Had she really let herself be with the Evil Queen?_  
  
_Tears stung her eyes as her memory returned. None of it was a dream. Not the whip, or the events that followed. She had surrendered under the Queen’s practiced hand, her body betraying her. By the end, she couldn’t even claim it was the magic building her orgasm. She had stopped resisting. She had driven herself back onto the Queen’s waiting fingers, a deep moan tearing from her throat._  
  
_The thought made her shudder. She knew the Queen weakened her. She had spent a week in the dungeon with little food or rest. The whip broke her down further. She was exhausted, her emotions raw. It was easy for the Queen to get passed her walls, and once she had, Emma was powerless to do anything but flow with the Queen’s desires. It was easier to give in to the pleasure._  
  
_That wouldn’t happen again. She would find a way out the castle. She just needed to stay focused._  
  
_“You’re awake.”_  
  
_Emma dropped the pillow, her gaze snapping up. The Queen stood near the end of the bed, wearing a red velvet dress. Her hair was pinned half up, dark curls cascading over her bare back. A wide leather belt cinched her waist, and lace framed her neckline. All in all, she looked almost casual. Well, by the Evil Queen’s standards. Her face wasn’t painted with her usual dark makeup. She wore simple black eyeliner and a light shade of mauve lipstick, giving her a soft appearance. Emma knew better._  
  
_“It’s impolite not to respond when greeted.”_  
  
_Emma cleared her throat. “Sorry.” She wasn’t sure the Queen’s observation on her level of consciousness counted as a greeting, but she wasn’t going to point it out either. She needed to stay out of the dungeon, if she was going to find a way out of the castle. She also didn’t want another lesson learned at the Queen’s skilled hand with a whip. “Good morning.”_  
  
_The Queen rounded the bed, a wide smile sliding over her face. The flash of pearly teeth reminded Emma of her early days in Storybrook. She never trusted that smile on Regina, and she definitely didn’t trust it on the Queen. Her approach was slow and calculated, making Emma feel like a mouse, dancing just out of reach of a set trap. “Did you sleep well?”_  
  
_Emma nodded, fitting the blankets more tightly around her. “Fine.”_  
  
_The Queen paused. Her dark gaze glided over her white knuckles and snapped to her eyes. “Are you nervous, Emma?”_  
  
_“I’m fine.”_  
  
_“Are you?” She traced a finger over Emma’s bare shoulder, a trail of goosebumps following her warm touch._  
  
_Emma shivered. Her first instinct was to pull away, but defiance hadn’t gotten her anywhere last night. The Queen had take her time to break Emma’s resistance. It was an experience she didn’t care to repeat this morning. She needed to pick and choose her battles. This wasn’t one of them._  
  
_She took a deep breath and grit her teeth, allowing the Queen her games. She’d survived enough pervy foster brothers. She knew how to block out unpleasant encounters. Except, the Queen’s touch wasn’t unpleasant. It was soft and gentle, coaxing her body to surrender. Her skin recognized the velvet caress and while her mind clamped down hard on the tender interaction, her body had other ideas. A spark struck low in her abdomen and Emma braced against the urge to lean into the Queen’s hand._  
  
_“Relax, Emma.” The Queen’s lips turned up at the corners, a glint in chocolate eyes. “It isn’t like you’re hiding something I haven’t already seen.”_  
  
_“Maybe, but it wasn’t something I willingly showed you either.”_  
  
_She raised an eyebrow. “Really? So you unwillingly begged for my touch last night?”_  
  
_“You mean after your magic inhibited my good sense?”_  
  
_She knew she was playing with fire. The smart thing would have been to say nothing at all. She doubted the Queen like to be goaded anymore than Regina did. But Emma was never good at keeping her mouth shut. She prickled sensitive nerves and prodded soft spots. With a woman like Regina, you had to be ready to fight if you found one. Emma wasn’t._  
  
_The Queen laughed and a chill crept up her spine. The sound felt like spiders dancing at the nape of her neck. If their tiny legs were made out of needles. The sensation was both pleasurable and terrifying, a promise of desire. If you survived._  
  
_Emma kept her eyes on the far wall as the Queen hovered close. Her lips brushed Emma’s ear, soft words carried on a warm breath. “I hate to tell you this, dear. Magic can’t force what isn’t already there. I may have played with your body, but the emotions and desires? Those were all yours.”_  
  
_She twisted around as the Queen returned to her full height again. “You’re lying.” She may not know everything about magic, but she knew emotions could be tampered with. “What about love potions?”_  
  
_“You think I gave you a love potions? Your feelings for me must be quite intense if-“_  
  
_“No,” Emma growled. “I just know they can change your feelings for someone.”_  
  
_“They change nothing. A love potion doesn’t create true affection. It deceives the senses, crafting scents, tastes and even sights that are already pleasing to the one who consumes it. The emotions aren’t real.”_  
  
_“And this is?”_  
  
_“You tell me, Emma. Were your feelings las night real? Because they certainly surprised me.”_  
  
_Emma ignored her. She was sure the Queen was baiting her and she wasn’t going to fall for it. “What about the hearts you keep? You control the people they belong to.”_  
  
_The Queen’s head tilted. “My. You seem to know a fair bit about me, don’t you? How is that?” She brushed a strand of hair from Emma’s face. “The disguise you wore reeked of Rumpel’s magic, though I find it difficult to understand what interest he would have in you, or why he would foster your interest in me.”_  
  
_“Who says I’m interested in you?”_  
  
_The Queen smirked, but didn’t answer. “The hearts I take are used to compel the body. Nothing more. It can not change the genuine emotions of the individual. You see,” her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “That’s what makes it particularly cruel. I can force my enemies to spy or kill the ones they love. They see it happen. They feel every second of their loss, knowing they are responsible and yet powerless to stop it.”_  
  
_Emma’s mouth gaped open, her eyes widening under arched brows. Whatever response the Queen’s touch had ignited faded, her blood running cold. This was the Evil Queen she had heard stories about. This was the Evil Queen everyone feared. She knew this person existed. She just had never truly wrapped her mind around it. Hearing personal accounts second hand felt surreal, a story that hadn’t quite reached her._  
  
_“Not what you were expecting, dear? I guess you aren’t as familiar with me as I thought.” She cupped Emma’s cheek and this time Emma jerked back. Or tried to. The Queen’s fingers tangled in her hair, gripping tight at the base of her skull. “Enough. I answered your questions, and now you’re going to answer mine.”_  
  
_“I have nothing to say to you.”_  
  
_“No? Perhaps you need help loosening your tongue this morning?”_  
  
_Emma trembled, anger heating her face. She honestly needed more help keeping her mouth shut. She was afraid to speak; afraid to tell the Queen what she really thought. Revealing her current feelings wouldn’t earn her any brownie points. “No.”_  
  
_“Good.” The Queen relaxed her hold and Emma dropped her eyes. Surprisingly, the Queen didn’t retaliate further. She let Emma gather herself, waiting until her breathing returned to normal before she spoke again. “There’s a price to pay for this who betray me. Most find their penance on the sharp side of the guillotine. Others, I take a more unique interest in. I spare their lives if I believe they may be useful to me. I take their hearts to ensure they don’t make any foolish decisions. I use their hearts against them only if they do.”_  
  
_“And me?” Emma hated how small her voice sounded._  
  
_The Queen’ fingers lifted her chin. “I have no intention of taking your heart, Emma. I have other plans for you._  
  
_She couldn’t bring herself to ask what those plans were. After last night, she was afraid she already had an idea. The Queen obviously found her attractive. She knew from her own world that royalty often had conquests, slaves for their personal pleasure. Was that what she was now?_  
  
_“Come. Let’s have breakfast. We have a lot to discuss and I have a few things I want to show you.”_  
  
_The Queen moved to the small table in the corner and a flourish of her hand produced an assortment of covered dished. The scent of eggs and bacon drifted over Emma’s tastebuds, making her mouth water. Her stomach growled. She had eaten every bite of last night’s chicken dinner, but her starving stomach had long since burned it off._  
  
_She gripped the sheet and swung her legs to the floor._  
  
_“Leave the blanket.”_  
  
_Emma froze. “What?”_  
  
_“Blankets aren’t appropriate at the breakfast table.”_  
  
_“Nether is being naked. I don’t have anything to wear. You ripped the only clothes I had.”_  
  
_“I’d hardly call those rags clothes.” She held out a chair, and gazed at Emma expectantly._  
  
_Emma shook her head. She had hoped to make it further into the day before their first inevitable battle, but she wasn’t going to eat breakfast on display for Her Majesty. That was where she drew the line. “You might as well punish me. I’m not doing that.”_  
  
_The Queen shrugged and moved to her own seat. “Very well.”_  
  
_Emma’s brow creased as she watched the Queen fill her plate. “That’s it?”_  
  
_“That’s, what?” She asked. She scooped a bite of egg onto her fork, closing her eyes as it passed her lips._  
  
_“You’re not going to…” Emma struggled to find the right words, not wanting to give the Queen any ideas. “Discipline?”_  
  
_“Would you like me to?”_  
  
_“No!” Emma snapped. She leaned back against the head board, looking like a disgruntled teenager._  
  
_The Queen took another bite, dabbing her lips with a cloth napkin. “I won’t discipline you for a personal choice, Emma. If you choose not to eat, just know it’s a long time before lunch. We have a lot to do this morning.”_  
  
_So she’d said. What exactly did that mean? For a second, Emma wondered if she shouldn’t just do as the Queen asked. She might need her strength._  
  
_No. If she gave in now, it would be harder to take a stand in the future. She needed to keep some sort of boundaries._  
  
_“I think it’s time we go over your position here. I chose to spare your life because I found you intriguing and pleasant to look at. For a while, I’ve considered keeping a personal confidant, someone to share my evening with. Your job here Emma is to please me. That’s all you must do.”_  
  
_“Like a pet?”_  
  
_“If that’s how you choose to see it. All you really need to comprehend is that you belong solely to me.”_  
  
_“Meaning you control everything I do.”_  
  
_“I already control what you do. I already own you. You gave up all rights to your life when you broke the law. Like it or not, your future is in my hands. How comfortable that is depends on you.”_  
  
_Emma scowled. “I thought I didn’t get a choice.”_  
  
_“You always have a choice. However, those decisions may not always yield desirable results.”_  
  
_“That’s not a choice then.”_  
  
_The Queen didn’t answer. She sipped her orange juice, eyeing her over the glass rim._  
  
_“I’m not agreeing to that.”_  
  
_Still nothing. Her silence was unnerving. Emma was prepared for a retaliatory strike. She could handle a sharp rebuke or physical reprimand. She wasn’t as ready for the soft look of disapproval in the Queen’s eye. It chipped at her carefully placed armor, making her feel foolish and immature, as if her defiance only proved the Queen’s point. Emma needed a keeper._  
  
_She slammed her hand down on the bed. “I’m not a child. I can-“_  
  
_“No,” the Queen interrupted. Her tone remained steady, her face impassive. “You’re not a child. What you are is mine.”_  
  
_“I’m-“_  
  
_The Queen held up a hand, silencing her. “I have only three rules you must follow. Speak to no one without my permission. Food, clothing and activities will be chosen at my discretion, and specific orders are to be obeyed without question. Failure to comply with any of the aforementioned will result in a punishment fitting of the crime. Do you understand?”_  
  
_Emma crossed her arms, but nodded. This wasn’t a fight she was going to win. Her better option was to take situation on one at a time. Right now, that meant refusing her breakfast, until she was allowed to eat clothed._  
 _“Words, Emma.”_  
 _“Yes,” she hissed._  
 _The Queen nodded and finished her plate, leaving Emma to stew over her new cell. She may have been out of the dungeon, but this was still very much a cage. One she wasn’t going to stay in, if she could help it. The Queen had given her rules but she had also given her choices. Emma was determined to make sure hers weren’t in the Queen’s favor. No matter what the Queen put her through, she wouldn’t submit. She could follow orders and keep her spirit in tact._  
  
_“Last chance.” The Queen stood, sliding her chair beneath the table. She lifted a brow. “There’s a plate if you want it. But, you know what I expect.”_  
  
_Emma burrowed deeper into the blankets._  
  
_“As you wish.” She waved her and had the dishes disappeared. “Get up.”_  
  
_“No. Thank you.”_  
  
_The Queen opened the amour, rummaged through a stack of clothes and returned to the bed. “In case I wasn’t clear, that was a direct order. Stand up. Now.”_  
  
_Emma remained motionless. Green and brown irises locked in a silent battle of wills, as the Queen descended upon her. She hadn’t refused breakfast to prance naked in front of the Queen now._  
  
_“If I have to ask again, I will remove you from the bed myself. You won’t like the consequence.”_  
  
_Emma clenched her jaw, nostrils flaring. She sat up straighter. “I want clothes first.”_  
  
_“You don’t make the rules here, Emma. You will have clothes when I give them to you. Now are you going to follow orders? Or do I need to teach you how?_  
  
_Emma relaxed her hand and the covers slipped from her fingers. Her porcelain skin flushed. She didn’t look up as her feed found the floor. She took her time getting up, ignoring the Queen’s heated gaze. She waited. After a brief pause, the Queen spoke._  
  
_“Do you have a color preference?”_  
  
_The question startled Emma out of her silent indignation. Two cotton tunics were placed in front of her. The first was forest green. The other was a pale blue. She was actually getting what she wanted?_  
  
_“Either is…. fine,” she said slowly._  
  
_The Queen nodded, settling on the green. She opened the bottom and held it up for her arms. “You didn’t appear all that comfortable in a dress,” she explained, shrugging off Emma’s perplexed expression. “I thought you might like this option better. Do you?”_  
  
_Emma didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected the Queen to ask her opinion, that was for sure. She honestly thought she would find herself in some degrading costume or frilly gown. Not something she actually liked. Not something she would choose herself._  
  
_The fabric settled over Emma’s shoulders, flowing passed her waist. The length left plenty of room to be tucked into the black leather pants the Queen held up next._  
  
_“I can do it.”_  
  
_“I’m aware.” She scrunched up the left leg for Emma’s foot and waited._  
  
_Emma sighed. She already knew if she didn’t comply, she would go without pants. This was one of her ‘choices’ that she could either accept of refuse. Part of her wanted to refuse. She knew what the goal was. The Queen was breaking her down, conditioning her to obey by rewarding her with every day necessities. She could see it, but also knew she could only holdout so long in this game of chess. The more she refused, they more miserable the Queen would make her until she caved._  
  
_And was it really so bad? The Queen wasn’t being deliberately cruel. Not about this. She had taken the time to select an outfit Emma would find comfortable and even gave her a choice of colors. Besides, it was better than staying naked. The Queen would either confine her to the bed chamber or parade her through the castle in her current condition._  
  
_She lifted her leg, earning a genuine smile from the Queen. Emma’s heart skipped a beat. It reminded her of Regina in one of the rare moments she let Emma in. Maybe the Queen was right. Her feelings for Regina ran deep. There was so much between them. It wasn’t just Henry. It was a million unspoken thoughts. It was acceptance of the broken pieces they both kept glued inside, hiding their chips and cracks. They brought out the best and worst in each other. Hate. Love. Passion. Emma had experienced it all at Regina’s hand. Whatever their relationship, it went beyond friendship, but was also undefined. Did those emotions extend to the Queen? What if the Queen’s magic triggered emotions felt in another time and place?_  
  
_She pushed the thoughts away. Dwelling on her feelings for Regina wouldn’t help her right now. This woman wasn’t the same person. She hadn’t found Henry yet. She had no motivation to leave behind the darkness or revenge she craved. Forgetting that was dangerous for them both. She may not be able to keep all her emotions in check, but she could take Killian’s advice. She had to keep the two versions of the woman separate. Her captor could only ever be thought of as the Queen._  
  
_“Can I ask you a question?”_  
  
_The Queen tightened the laces over her pelvis, tying them into place. “You may.”_  
  
_“Why is this important to you?” She gestured to her clothes. “Doing this for me?”_  
  
_Emma thought she knew the answers but still wondered what the Queen would say. Her answer wasn’t one she expected._  
  
_“Trust is earned Emma. You’re not the only one who has to work for that. Contrary to what you may think, my goal is not to make you miserable. The more comfortable you are with me, the easier our new life will be.”_  
  
_“Our?” Emma blinked. The Queen’s gaze was earnest and no matter how hard Emma focused, she found no deceit in her words. “What is your goal then?”_  
  
_“Time will tell. Come. Let me show you your new home.” She held out her hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Emma took it. Her emotions tangled. The connection rekindled the soft buzz in her brain, just as it had the night before. The Queen’s grasp was reassuring. And seductive. Her thumb caressed Emma’s wrist, coaxing until she subconsciously leaned closer._  
  
_“Good girl, Emma.”_  
  
_The words were an unsettling thrill. Emma wasn’t sure how to process the butterflies in her stomach, or the soft moan rising in her chest when the Queen’s lips found her own._

  
“Emma.”  
  
The voice shook her. No. Someone was actually shaking her. A firm hand gripped her shoulder, jostling her back and forth. She wasn’t sure why the Queen was okay with this. She made it clear Emma was hers alone. No one ever tested the Queen on this. Most of her subjects gave Emma a wide girth so as to not even accidentally touch her. Did the Queen not see? Did she not know?   
  
Emma tried to call for her as the castle grounds blurred in and out of focus. The trees and sky faded, and then there was darkness. Her heart hammered, vibrations catching in her throat. She whimpered. The darkness was thick and pressing, a heavy silence she knew too well. It was the sound of isolation. The sound that had followed her throughout her childhood, and the sound she spent her adult life running from. She hated silence. When it was quiet she could hear her thoughts. Nightmares she kept buried were able to surface, disembodied hands reaching from the depths of her mind, tearing into her as they had in the Queen’s isolation room. Was that what this was? Was the Queen punishing her for something?   
  
“Emma!”  
  
The voice was louder this time. More urgent. Her head fell to the side and the scent of dirt filled her nose.  
  
Emma groaned, swiping at the offending hand. This wasn’t the Queen. Someone else was messing with her. Her blood rushed though her veins, fight or flight taking over her mind and body. She didn’t know who this was, but she wasn’t going to allow them to take her any further. She kicked out and connected with something hard, a loud oomph expelling next to her ear. She followed it with her fist, screaming when a hand circled her wrist.  
  
“Emma!”  
  
“Get off! Get off me!”  
  
“Emma, stop! It’s me! It’s David. Emma!”  
  
She stilled. Her heart thundered in her ears as her father’s voice broke through her awareness. Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking against harsh light. Green and brown blended together, spinning like a kaleidoscope, until they shaped giant pines. David’s face was in front of them. He hovered over her, green eyes wide.  
  
“Are you okay?”   
  
She licked her lips. Her mouth tasted like cotton, her tongue too big for her mouth. “What happened? What are you doing here?”   
  
“What am _I_ doing here?” His blonde brows climbed up his forehead. “Emma, what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t feeling well?”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“Obviously.”  
  
He released her wrists and Emma lifted her head. The trees swayed and she dropped it back into the dirt. She was so hungry. The last thing she’d managed to eat was two days ago in the Enchanted Forest and it wasn’t much. She allowed herself one egg and had barely kept it down after. She couldn’t keep going like this. She had to find a way to eat. “How long was I out?”  
  
“I don’t know. Archie found you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, Pongo.”  
  
Emma followed his gaze. Archie stood against the tree line, wringing the dalmatians leash as he watched. “Great.”  
  
“He called me when he couldn’t wake you. That was at least fifteen minutes ago. Who knows how long you were here before he stumbled on you. You’re lucky it was him and not some kid.”  
  
“I know, dad. I don’t need a lecture.” She took his offered hand and stood up. “I didn’t exactly mean for this to happen.”   
  
“Just be glad you’re only getting a lecture from me,” he said, leading her towards the patrol car. “I convinced Archie to keep this to himself for now, and told Regina I was going to check the damage on this side of town. Do you know how pissed she would be if she found out about this? She already thinks you’re playing hooky.”   
  
She pulled her hand from his. “You talked Regina about this?” Snow was usually the one she had to worry about blabbing. She couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. Or anyone else’s for that matter. But David was careful. Emma didn’t tell him everything about her life, but he listened and usually kept it between them. Until now. She couldn’t believe he ratted her out. “I told you I could work today. Just because I was feeling sick-“  
  
“She saw you run into the woods, Emma. What was I supposed to tell her? I didn’t have a reason for her. I still don’t. Why didn’t you go home?”  
  
“Because I didn’t plan to take the day off!” That wasn’t completely true. She had no intention of going back to the station, but she would have come up with some reason for her absence. “I just needed some air.”   
  
She took a step back and the world tilted. David’s arms wrapped her waist and she laid her head on his shoulder. She took a deep breath, waiting for the ground to steady beneath her feet.   
  
“I didn’t realize I was this bad,” she whispered.  
  
David nodded. “I figured.” He kissed her brow and helped her into the car. “Don’t worry, I have plenty of experience with stubborn pigheadedness.”  
  
“Including your own?”  
  
Charming laughed and climbed in the driver’s side. “Of the three of us, my stubbornness is the worst.”  
  
Emma smirked. “Yeah, okay.” They both knew it was Snow who earned that title. “Dad?”  
  
His eyes cut to the side. “Yeah.”  
  
“Can we not file paperwork on this?” If Regina saw her run into the forest, she was already going to be enough trouble. She didn’t need to add to it with her nap in the park.  
  
David reached over, squeezing her hand. “You tell me our story and I’ll stick to it.”  
  
Emma sighed and settled further into her seat. “Thanks.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on this story. Originally, I planned to have more happening during the present in this scene, but the chapter was getting really long and I wanted you to have an update this weekend. So I shortened and will focus more on the present in the next chapter, which will feature David, Mary Margaret and Henry.
> 
> There is a trigger warning for this chapter. There is physical abuse as well as a lot of emotional and psychological triggers. Please read with care.

The ride across town was a silent one. Mainly because there was nothing to say. For Emma at least. David had tried to ask a few questions, his jaw snapping shut when she glared at him. She couldn't be too frustrated with him. If the roles were reversed, she would probably have a few questions of her own. She knew she looked like death. Her behavior wasn't any less concerning. She was surprised David accepted her refusal to see a doctor. She wouldn't have if it were Henry in this situation. It was only the matter of age difference that stopped David from dragging her to the hospital. She was an adult and could make her own choices. She was sure that wouldn't matter though if she didn't find a way to pull herself together in the next few days. They would drag her there whether she wanted to go or not.

"I need to get my car," Emma stated. Her voice broke through the hypnotic static of the cruiser radio, drawing David from his scattered mind. She could only imagine what he was thinking right now.

"Hmmm…" He acknowledged.

She gestured back towards Granny's. "My car? I need to pick it up."

"Don't worry about it. One of us can grab it later."

"It's been there all day."

David shrugged. "It's not like either of us is going to ticket you and who else is going to care?"

Emma could think of at least one person who might, but chose not to mention it. She didn't need another reason to focus on Regina. Her mind still clung to the last glimpse of the Enchanted Forest she saw before David jolted her awake. The first day with the Queen was a huge adjustment. Even though she was familiar with Storybrook, her body and mind faced a similar challenge now. She felt like she was re-learning everything she knew. Like which trails she should take and the ones she should avoid.

The Queen was patient. She lead Emma through the Castle, pointing out places Emma should familiarize herself with. She spent even more time showing her places she was forbidden to go. That was pretty much the entire castle. The few places she was allowed to frequent required an appointed escort, or the Queen herself.

Emma didn't really mind. Not right then. As long as her compliance meant leaving the castle walls and getting to see the sun. After a week in the dungeons, she would have agreed to almost anything for the privilege of fresh air. She let the Queen lace their fingers together, accepting casual touches to her shoulders and back. If she were honest with herself, she had enjoyed the soft skin against her own. The Queen's thumb caressed Emma's wrist, soothing and intoxicating at the same time. Each brush of the wind carried the scent of spice, apples and something darker she had never been able to place, not even with Regina.

She speculated it was the Queen's magic. Emma's magic had a light scent like a summer rain or lake breeze. There was a sweet smell too, something similar to butterscotch but not quite. She could never get a whiff of it long enough. It appeared only when she used her magic. At least that was the only time she noticed it. But Regina's scent lingered. Her magic was Emma's opposite, summer nights under a full moon. With the Queen she imagined a blood moon, hanging low in the sky, almost touching the ground. Her magic was dark and earthy, a seductive combination of beauty and danger.

With the Queen there was no middle ground. She found that out soon enough. Emma let her guard down during the castle tour. She let herself relax in the easy conversation that flowed with the Queen.

She shouldn't have.

Nothing was ever easy. Especially not in her life and even less so with the Queen.

_"_ _Strip."_

_The command was a splash of cold water on Emma's sun kissed skin. They'd barely shut the door to the Queen's suite when the word glided from the Queen's lips like an arrow from a bow. The sound was sharp, slicing through the illusion of security and comfort Emma had allowed herself to feel._

_She frowned. She wasn't sure what the Queen's motives were. She didn't seem particularly interested in her. She busied herself in the armoire, removing a white sleeping shift. Emma relaxed a little, though she was no less perplexed. The sun was low in the sky, painting clouds with streaks of purple and orange. The first stars glittered in the darkness above, but it seemed early to be getting ready for bed._

_Emma pulled at the tight threads, holding her pants in place. She was tired. Her body hadn't had time to recover. Her muscles felt like jello, her movements sluggish. Her head was another matter. Images of the days events rocketed through her mind as she attempted to catalog each piece of information she absorbed. She memorized each hall they walked, counted each turn they took and estimated the number of paces between the castle doors and the outer wall. Resting wouldn't be the worst thing. She would have time to piece together what she had learned and formulate a plan. She just needed time to focus._

_If the Queen let her._

_Her gut sank as she watched the dark woman. If they were going to 'bed' this early, Emma doubted they would do much sleeping. Maybe she was focusing on the wrong plan of escape. Finding a safe way out of the castle was necessary, but right now she faced more immediate dangers. Dangers she wasn't prepared for._

_The Queen turned back towards her and Emma froze, her pants trapped around her ankles. In addition to the sleeping shift, the Queen had retrieved her whip, long fingers stroking the braided leather as if it were a felines tale._

_"_ _No." Emma kicked the pants from her feet and backed away._

_"_ _No?" The Queen placed the night shift on the bed but kept the whip in hand. "Do you think that is an acceptable way to speak to your Queen, Emma?"_

_She licked at parched lips. "I didn't mean- I just don't- I didn't do anything wr-ong."_

_Her voices broke on the last word and anger flared from the logical adult side of her mind. The part of her she displayed during her daily life. She had built the thick skinned persona during her adolescent years and had hid behind her since. But that wasn't who had spoken. It was the little girl she'd locked away when she was ten-years-old. Emma kept her safe, hidden from every abusive home and each emotional scar adult Emma took. The physical scars adult Emma learned to wear like medals of honor, battle wounds she had survived. Little Emma never felt any of it. But at the sight of the whip the small voice quivered. Something had brought her to the surface._

_It wasn't like Emma never felt her. The little girl carried the heartaches of her past. All the weight and pain of her abandonment, and the sharp loss that came each time a family discarded her were wrapped up inside the child Emma locked away. Most of the time, she stayed buried deep beneath Emma's surface. But, there were trigger moments. Every now and then, life threw her a left hook, breaking through her carefully constructed walls. The little girl raged, looking for an anchor to steady the hurricane of emotions that were much too big for her. All the emotions adult Emma didn't know how to process at all. She blocked them out, focusing on her job or drowning them out with music, television or anything she could use as a distraction. When she lived alone, she had turned to alcohol more than she cared to admit. She stopped that habit after finding Henry._

_Oddly enough, it was Regina who had anchored her the last time. Coming back to Storybrook after a year in New York was bittersweet. Her year with Henry and the memories Regina gave her, filled an emptiness she had ignored for years. It was a year she cherished and was reluctant to leave… If it weren't for her family. She bonded with her parents in Neverland, or started to. It was a long road to build trust between them. She missed them. But Mary Margaret's pregnancy was a punch to her gut._

_She hadn't expected them to wallow in grief when they returned to the Enchanted Forest. They deserved to be happy, which was something she told herself again and again. The little Emma didn't care. The only thing she felt was abandonment and grief._

_Logically, Emma knew she wasn't being replaced. But a deeper part of her didn't care. They were getting a second chance at parenting. She would never have a second chance at childhood. No matter how much she pretended otherwise, the blow had hit her where she was most vulnerable. She welcomed the new curse, throwing all of her energy into solving the identity of their new nemesis. Late night stakeouts with Regina kept her from dwelling on the unchangeable and gave her time to rebuild her walls. Now she wondered if she had built them high enough._

_The whip lashed at her brick exterior. Her walls crumbled under the Queen's skilled hand. She was so careful to hide the girl inside her. In one day, the Queen had found her. No. She hadn't just found her. She was after her, and neither part of Emma knew how to handle that._

_She stared at the Queen with large eyes, fingers clenched in the hem of her tunic. There had to be something she could do to please the woman before her. Anything to keep from another assault on her defenses. "What did I do wrong?"_

_She couldn't think of anything. She obeyed each order the Queen gave during her tour. She submitted to her touch and even allowed the Queen to feed her berries for lunch. She worked so hard to please her, knowing the fate that awaited her if she failed. The punishment wasn't worth any amount of sass or defiance. She needed to save her risk taking for things that actually mattered, like getting out of the castle and back to Storybrook._

_Besides, if she didn't earn the Queen's trust, she would never have a chance to escape. The past would catch up to her and she would disappear. That thought alone was enough to keep herself in-check. Yet, here she was, facing a whipping. And for what?_

It's the same.

_The thought was a whisper from deep in her soul. The voice behind it was quiet and more high pitched than her own._

_Emma winced internally, attempting to fold the disheartened fear back into the dark. She understood the sentiment. How many homes had she lived through where good behavior was no guarantee of safety or love? Both her and the inner child were used to a negative outcome no matter how hard they tried._

It's fine.  _Emma swallowed and took a steadying breath._ This isn't the same. We aren't really aiming to please the Queen.

_Were they?_

_No._

_Her goal was to avoid the dungeon and get out of the castle. Not to please the Queen. Avoiding punishments along the way was just an incentive to work harder._

_The Queen stopped in front of her as Emma's back hit the wall. Her fingers splayed against the cold stone, the jagged edges scratching her shoulders. Her eyes darted around the room. She had run out of options._

_"_ _Emma." The Queen's voice dripped honey, enticing her as she crooked a long finger. When she didn't move, the Queen smiled and cupped her cheek. Her thumb brushed just beneath her eye._

_Emma gasped. She stared in horror at the clear liquid dripping over the Queen's sharp, red nail. She was_  not  _crying. She wasn't. Emma Swan didn't cry. Not like this. She stopped being a victim years ago. She promised herself she would never cry for someone who hurt her. She wouldn't give them that power. She never had. Why now?_

_"_ _I didn't-" She tried again and growled in frustration when the words caught in her throat._

_"_ _You didn't do anything wrong?"_

_Emma nodded. Her eyes squeezed shut, hot tears leaking from the corners. Dammit._

_"_ _I agree."_

_"_ _W-what?" Her eyes shot open, finding dark irises. "Then why?"_

_The Queen tightened her grip on the whip, lifting it. "This isn't about punishment. Do you know what routine discipline means?"_

_Emma could guess but shook her head._

_"_ _It's behavior modification through maintenance spankings or other methods. It's a technique to help remind you of what's expected and keep you from making poor choices."_

_"_ _So you're punishing me before I mess up?"_

_"_ _This isn't a punishment, Emma. Tell me, what were your thoughts today?"_

_"_ _My thoughts…" Emma repeated, tasting the words on her tongue. Her stomach summer saluted as she replayed the direction of her mind throughout the day. She had paid attention to the Queen, admired the castle and the grounds. She thought of Henry when she saw the library. But she knew none of that was what the Queen was referring to. She didn't know how the Queen could possible know her mind kept track of each window and door they passed, except that it was a natural reflex. All prisoners probably contemplated escape at some point._

_"_ _Emma," The Queen whispered. "Talk to me. What did you do?"_

_Emma bit her lip._

_"_ _Admitting the truth does nothing but benefit you."_

_"_ _If I admit what I was thinking, can we skip that?" She nodded at the whip._

_The Queen shook her head._

_"_ _Then how does this benefit me?"_

_"_ _The more I trust you, the less I'll need this. Confessing your transgressions is your decision. Deciding the length and severity of these sessions is mine."_

_Alarm settled in Emma's chest. The small child inside her raised her head, fighting adult Emma's urge to hold out. She didn't want this experience. The previous night was more than enough for the small place inside her. The Queen may have healed her body, but her skin remembered each bite of the whip, and each caress of the Queen's hand. The shock of both stripped her of her defenses and laid her bare. She didn't want to break open again, but she knew that option wasn't avoidable. That was exactly what the Queen wanted. To break her walls and claim her. If she told the truth, she might be able to hold herself together. Either way, she was going to feel the Queen's whip._

_"_ _I promise, I will always go easier on you if you make choices that please me."_

_Emma nodded and clamped down tight on the vulnerable child inside. She would keep her closed off tonight. She could do this. She had spent her whole life doing this. "I considered potential escape routes. I thought I could find a way out."_

_"_ _Were you successful?"_

_Emma scrunched her brow. "Why would I tell you that?"_

_To her surprise the Queen smiled. "You've already told me what I needed to know."_

_"_ _Which is?"_

_"_ _You have nothing. If you had a way out, there would be a spark of panic in your eyes right now. At the very least, there would be guilt."_

_"_ _So I'm being punished for wanting to escape?" The idea was absurd. How was she supposed to survive if she had to watch her actions and her thoughts too._

_The Queen's hand slid down her arm, lacing their fingers together. "I already told you, this isn't a punishment. It's a preventative measure to keep you from needing such severe methods down the road."_

_"_ _You're whipping me. That's a punishment." Emma knew it was pointless to argue. The Queen wouldn't budge. Regina rarely did and this version of the woman was a tidal wave compared to the Mayor._

_"_ _Trust me, when I punish you, you will know."_

_She pulled Emma away from the wall, positioning her near the fireplace. Once on her knees, the Queen lifted the hem of her tunic, removing the green fabric in one swift motion._

_Emma crossed her arms over her chest, staring into the flickering orange and blue flames. She was already slipping away, her mind drifting to somewhere safe. She thought of Storybrook and family. She imagined the loft kitchen, the taste of grilled cheese, Henry's laugh as he crushed David at some video game or another._

Crack!

_She grit her teeth and went deeper inside herself. The loft smelt of old wood, like an attic or library. The scent was soothing, touched with the rich vanilla fragrance of Mary Margaret's candles._

Crack! Crack! Crack!

_The Queen's fingers gripped her chin. "No no, Emma."_

_Lips massaged her own and the loft wavered, blurring in and out of focus. The taste of apples distorted the fried bread and cheese on her tongue and the image cracked. Dark eyes pierced her own, fire igniting her back as she broke through the cold surface of reality. Her lips parted in a soft whimper and the Queen descended again. She swallowed Emma's pain with her kisses, replacing the flames with a different sort of heat. One that pulsed between her legs._

_"_ _Good girl," the Queen whispered, pulling back. "These lessons are of no benefit to you if you're not here to learn from them."_

_"_ _I won't run," Emma panted. The words tumbled from her lips through she had no idea which part of her had spoken them. She didn't know which way was up between the conflicting sensations and emotions. It didn't leave a lot of space for self awareness._

_"_ _No," the Queen agreed. "You won't run. Not even in your mind. You belong to me, Emma. Your body and your mind. I want your full attention."_

_The Queen stood and Emma wobbled, weakened by the lack of support. Her muscles trembled with the loss of contact as if she had held something heavy for too long._

Crack.

_Emma yelped and pitched forward, catching her weight on her hand. Her nails scratched at the stone as a second and third strike followed. By the fourth she lost control. A strangled cry tore from there throat, raw pain and anger bubbling up from her chest. What scared her was that none of it was directed at the Queen. It came from an untouched place inside her, a torrent of memories flowing with it. Vile breath. Rough hands. Harsh words. Cold nights._

_The Queen's hand brushed her shoulder and Emma jumped._

_"_ _Easy."_

_Emma blinked fast. "I know. Full attention."_

_"_ _If I thought what just happened was your own doing, I would agree. It wasn't, was it?"_

_Emma shook her head._

_The Queen squeezed her shoulder, her touch firm but gentle. "I want you to hear me. Those demons, whatever or whoever they were, they have no claim on you anymore. Only I do. Do you understand?"_

_"_ _No." She spit the word, knowing it would likely earn her another strike of the Queen's whip. She wasn't going to let anyone claim her. Not ghosts and not the woman in front of her. Not like this._

_"_ _Are you sure?"_

_Magic seeped beneath her skin and Emma bit her lip. Her blood buzzed, an electric current shooting through her veins. The pain faded, magic absorbing her discomfort. It twisted into a deeper desire. Lava settled in the pit of her stomach and Emma swallowed back a moan. Warmth trickled down her thighs, the scent of arousal permeating the air._

_"_ _Stop."_

_"_ _I've done nothing_ , my g _irl. The magic is supposed to intoxicate. As I said, this isn't a punishment. I don't want these lessons to harm you." She leaned forward, hovering over Emma, her breath hot against the back of her neck. "But never has it created such an…. intense reaction. I can't help but wonder if your body isn't already familiar with my magic. Although that begs the question: how?"_

_Shit._

_"_ _I don't know."_

_"_ _Mmmm…" The Queen stood again. "I very much doubt that. But I'll let it slide for now, Em-ma."_

Emma wasn't sure how she made it through that night. Each time the whip ceased its display of art on her back, she was overpowered by her need for the Queen's touch. She half expected the Queen to claim her when she resisted.

She didn't.

The Queen didn't push at all. Emma was always in charge of the direction their routine discipline took. If she gave in to her desires, the Queen gave her what she needed, whether by her own hand, or watching as Emma ground herself into the pillows around her. That night she simply held Emma's frustrated body, humming until Emma fell asleep on her chest.

She woke up feeling worse. Emma waited all morning for a chance to satisfy the fire burning inside her. She was never left alone. If the Queen wasn't at her side, a guard or servant were. They watched her every move, going as far as to knock on the door if she spent more than five minutes in the bathroom. Their presence was more suffocating than the Queen's. She assumed because they had more to lose. If she escaped them, they would lose their lives. There were very few people she would have stuck her neck out for were the roles reversed.

Needless to say, she didn't last long the next night. Her attempts to keep boundaries between herself and the monarch were only successful about every other day. After a week Emma stopped bothering to fight.

_The Queen pulled the whip back, stepping closer. Her legs brushed the back of Emma's thighs, eliciting a soft moan. "What do you need Emma?"_

_Emma squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. What she needed and what she wanted were two different things? Weren't they? Did it matter at this point?_

_Her blood was on fire. Heat consumed her, burning away logic and reason. All she could think about was the Queen's velvet fingertips. Her skin was overstimulated. A few gentle strokes between her legs was all she needed to get there. She just had to surrender._

_Slowly Emma leaned back. Her head fell against the Queen's shoulder and her back arched, pushing her breast into the Queen's palm. Her other hand wrapped around Emma's waist, gliding over her hips to settle between her legs._

_"_ _Tell me what you want."_

_"_ _Please," Emma whispered. She rotated her hips and groaned. The Queen's hand retreated, leaving Emma more frustrated than before._

_She was swollen. Her skin flushed and heated. There wasn't even a small part of her that wanted to go to bed unsatisfied again. She would though if she didn't satisfy the Queen. Her head told her she should pull away. Giving in was about more than uttering a few words. But with her increasing need, she was quickly losing that argument._

_"_ _What do you want, Emma?"_

_"_ _You."_

_"_ _Yes. Say all of it."_

_"_ _I want you."_

_"_ _Good girl."_

_The Queen's fingers drove into Emma, the heal of her hand grinding against her clit. Emma's hips bucked and a scream erupted from her chest. The Queen set a fast pace, fingers curling inside her. It was more than enough. White stars burst behind Emma's eyes as the first wave of her orgasm hit. Her fingers tangled in the Queen's dress. She held Emma tight, carrying her through a second and third until the white stars turned to black night. Emma woke up hours later, snuggled in soft blankets and tucked against the Queen's side._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed by the amount of comments and kudos this story has received. Thank you so much for all the follows and feedback. I am glad you are all enjoying it.
> 
> There is a trigger warning for this chapter. Mostly physical violence is referenced through inner monologue. Nothing too detailed but please read with care.

David pulled the cruiser to a stop outside their apartment building. Clouds had settled over the small town during their drive, and the afternoon breeze carried the scent of rain. It was a smell Emma had learned to love as an adult. Rain was never welcome during her years in foster care. It meant she was stuck in the house, unable to escape whatever nightmare she currently lived with. She learned fast not to be afraid of thunder. No one was going to comfort her. Her cries weren’t rewarded like they were with the Queen. She risked a beating if her foster parents thought her fears too irritating.  
  
David opened her door and offered his hand. “We better get you upstairs. We don’t need you catching a cold too.”  
  
Emma grimaced. She didn’t want that either. A cold meant bed rest. Sleep wouldn’t be bad if it offered a few hours of oblivion. So far, it hand’t. Her mind didn’t turn off just because her body had stopped functioning. It replayed memories like a movie reel, leaving Emma aching and wanting when she woke up. It was easier to to keep moving, despite the toll it took on her body.

David helped her up the stairs and for once she didn’t argue. She knew she had pushed too hard today. Her head was light, the walls shifting with each tilt of her head. She needed to eat something which was easier said than done. She hadn’t undergone any form of routine discipline in weeks, but the Queen was right. After a while, she didn’t need to. At least not to remind her to obey. The potential consequences stayed fresh in her mind, deterring her from purposely breaking the Queen’s rules.

When she did slip up, the severity of their sessions intensified, but the Queen held true to her word. Their evening routine was never a punishment. If she purposely disobeyed, the Queen left no doubt what sins she paid for.

Emma welcomed the evening discipline after her first punishment. Eating without permission wasn’t worth the pain her choice inflicted. For a solid week, the Queen tore the flesh from her back. She healed the wounds only to repeat the gesture the following night. What hurt Emma most was the loss of contact. During the Queen’s routine discipline, she always hovered close. The Queen was never more than an arms length away, ready to chase away any demons her actions stirred. The pleasure afterwards didn’t just soothe Emma’s physical pain. It engulfed her, wrapping her safely in the Queen’s magic. She hadn’t realized how much she’d grown accustomed to the familiar pattern until it wasn’t there.

She wasn’t sure who she surprised more when her punishment ended. The Queen looked at her with startled affection as Emma kneeled before the fire place, lifting her shirt without being asked. Desire flooded chocolate irises, turning them to the color of burning coals. Their dynamic shifted that night. The Queen didn’t just take Emma over the edge. She joined her on the pillows, straddling her thigh. The heat between them smoldered, the Queen’s kisses devouring Emma’s heart.

Emma shook her head. Thinking about that night wasn’t helping. The Queen wasn’t there, and no amount of routine discipline would remove the guilt she felt for leaving. Or help her stomach something other than water. The only thing that would help was to forget. She had wiped the Queen’s memories. She needed to let go of hers. It was her only choice if she wanted things to go back to normal. Was that what she wanted?

Emma sighed as they reached the top of the stairs. The last if her energy had dissolved. She clung to David’s jacket, fingers fisted tight on his leather sleeves.

“Ready?” He asked.

Emma knew he was referring to her mother. She was certain he had filled her in at some point. At the moment, she couldn’t find the strength to care. “Just get me to the couch.”

David opened the door and pulled up short. The scent of bleach hit them like a brick wall, making Emma’s eyes water. The floor shined in the lamp light, a mop and bucket tucked into the corner.  
  
“Wait!” Snow yelled from the kitchen. She rushed to the door, her feet covered by cloth slippers. “Take off your shoes before you come in. I don’t want the floors scuffed-“

“You’re mopping?” David interrupted.

“I’m disinfecting. We don’t want Neal to get the virus, do we?”

“Hun, he’s already been exposed to it. Emma was here last night.”

 _Emma is here right now…_ She thought, rolling her eyes.

She didn’t want to be mad at them. She wouldn’t want her baby brother to get sick either. She might be faking a virus, but the sentiment was the same. So were at least some of her symptoms. They were lucky she didn’t really have the flu or shoes on the floor would be the least of Snow’s concerns. “Can we please take this inside? I really need to sit.”

“I’m sorry, honey. Of course we-“ Snow’s eyes finally focused on her, and her mouth fell open. “Oh, Emma.” She reached for her shoulder, taking Emma from her father’s arm. “Here, let’s get you to the living room.”

“My boots,” Emma grumbled as Snow pulled her through the threshold.

“Your father can get it.”

“Of course.” He kicked off his own boots and followed them to the couch. Snow propped her up in front of the television as David traced their steps with the mop.

“You don’t have to do this.” Emma shifted her jacket from her shoulders and settled against the pillow. She felt guilty taking their time and attention, and frankly a little weird. It wasn’t that she wasn’t close with her parents. They’d just never had ‘that’ kind of relationship. In a strange way, Mary Margaret’s hovering was less awkward before the curse broke. Emma wasn’t sure how she felt about it now.

It was nice having their attention. Finding her parents at the age of twenty-eight didn’t afford any of them the opportunity for parental affection. None of them knew how to navigate their relationship when the curse finally broke, least of all her. It wasn’t like she had a lot of experience with family. She had looked like a deer in the headlights, too scared to flee and too scared to approach. When they’d pulled her to them, she was a combination of elated and angry. She had searched for information about her family for years, always wondering who left their baby on the side of the road?

She hoped it was an accident. She imagined her parents died while camping or in a car crash. Maybe a wild animal had carried her away from them? Or the boy who found her. August. He was an orphan too. Maybe he had take her from them? Maybe finding her on the side of the road was a story he made up?

Adult Emma had scoffed at each scenario her mind created. Each story was less probable than the first. Still, being the lost White Princess from the Enchanted Forest hadn’t crossed her mind. The story was a relief and a disappointment. Her parents wanted her. She wasn’t just thrown away. They sent her through the portal, hoping to giver her her best chance at life. How could they know the Queen’s curse wasn’t the worst fate for a child in this world?

And yet, wasn’t that a sufficient enough reason not to put her in that tree? They didn’t know where she would end up. At least with Henry, Emma was told there was a family lined up for him. A good family. If only the social worker could have known Regina’s past. She didn’t. Emma put her trust in the system. The same system that failed her, believing with would work better for her son.

They were lucky. Regina was an amazing mother. But was Emma’s choice really so different from her parents?

She almost asked Regina once. In Neverland. She studied the map Pan gave them, wondering what her fate would have been if her parents had chosen differently. She opened her mouth, waiting for the right words. They never came. She and Regina sat in silence, reflecting on their own lives. Emma worried she already knew the answer. The Queen would have killed her. Killed an infant. There was no other choice Emma could see to avoid Rumpel’s prophecy. As long as she was alive, the curse could be broken.

That didn’t make forgiving her parents easier. She resented the lost opportunities. Having her family now was amazing. For the first time in her life she had a home. There were people around for holidays and her birthday. She had someone to greet her in the mornings and eat with after work. It was more than she ever believed possible for her life. But she still ached for what she lost. She had missed out on hugs before school, and homemade lunches. There were very few Christmas celebrations and even less birthdays to remember. There was no one around if she had a nightmare or to protect her from the crap parents she was stuck with. There was no one to love her, and there certainly wasn’t anyone to take care of her when she was sick.

Emma could count the number of times her foster family took her to the doctor. They hadn’t covered her with a blanket or made her ginger tea to sooth her stomach. Snow’s attention was nice. But Emma also resented it. They weren’t her parents when she needed them, why should they get to play mommy and daddy now? She learned long ago how to take care of herself. She could get through a stomach virus on her own.

_You’re not even sick!_

  
Emma lifted her food, removing her own boots. She was the savior in this world. It wasn’t anyone’s job to look out for her. She was supposed to be strong for them, and they had other responsibilities now.  
  
“Where’s Neal?”

“Sleeping.” Snow stood, checking Emma’s forehead with the back of her hand. “We’re keeping him in the nursery tonight. Just to be safe. I’ve disinfected most of the house. I’m hoping he hasn’t already caught what you have.”

Emma brushed her hand away. “It’s not likely.”

Snow’s brow creased.

“I just mean, I think it might be something I ate.”

Snow nodded, padding back into the kitchen. “Have you been able to keep anything down?”

“Not so far.”

“She definitely can’t stomach donuts,” David called from the bathroom.

“Of course not, Charming!” Snow yelled back. Her hand pressed to her chest in disbelief. “Tell me that’s not what you attempted to feed her?”

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. The scene before her was something out of a 1960s sitcom and completely ridiculous. Donuts weren’t really that bad of an option when you were sick. At least in her opinion. As long as you stayed away from the sugar loaded ones. Sure, crackers were a better alternative, but donuts were dry and would do in a pinch. Well, if you weren’t still throwing up.

She frowned. She hadn’t actually accomplished that yet. Maybe she should eat a few crackers. Or take some Pepto? It couldn’t hurt, could it? If she convinced her mind she was sick, she might eventually be able to eat.

“Here.” Snow handed her a hot mug of tea and a pack of saltines. “Just try a few. Don’t over do it.”

There was no chance of that. She had to convince herself each bite she took was a necessity. Her hand wobbled as she brought the cracker to her lips and nibbled the corner. The salt coated her tongue, eliciting a deep rumble from her gut.

“Maybe you’ll be able to hold down more than you thought.”

“Maybe,” Emma agreed. She had finally reached a point where her body was too starved for her mind to revolt against her actions. She swallowed two crackers easily and followed it up with a third. That was already an improvement over this morning. Saltines lacked nutrients though. She should take a few vitamins. Those weren’t forbidden. The Queen didn’t even know what vitamins were.

_You know how I feel about loopholes, Emma._

Her stomach rolled. Just because she found a way around the Queen’s choice of words didn’t mean she wasn’t breaking any rules.

_Did you know I would be displeased?_

Emma pushed the crackers away and reached for the tea. The ginger settled her stomach but not her guilt. She wasn’t sure how the Queen would feel at this point. She was on the fast track to some serious health issues if she kept this up. The Queen was strict but had never once let her starve. Occasionally Emma missed a meal, but most of the time it was Emma’s decision, a form of retaliation. She still had food every day.

“How are you feeling?” Snow asked, taking the bag of crackers.

“A little queazy but I don’t think it’s coming back up.”

“That’s good. That must mean you’re getting better.”

Emma nodded. She would get better. Each time she ate with no percussions her body would start to accept the food she needed. In a few days, she might be able to eat something more substantial. Might.

“I’m making you a grilled cheese.”

“What?” Emma’s head snapped up. Mary Margaret was already pulling butter and cheese from the fridge. “Mom, Mary Margaret, that’s nice of you but I barely managed the crackers.”

“You don’t have to eat it all. Just try a few bites. You might want something more later. Besides, crackers aren’t enough for a growing boy.”

“Huh?” Neal wasn’t old enough for sandwiches and she really hoped Snow wasn’t talking about her father. The idea made her skin crawl. She did not need that kind of insight to her parent’s lives.

“Henry is coming over.”

“In this?” Emma pushed to her feet, rushing to the window. Light streaked across the sky, thunder rolling closer. It wasn’t raining yet, but it would be any second. She didn’t want her son out in a storm.

She also didn’t want him there. She missed Henry more than words while in the Enchanted Forest. He was always in the back of her mind. He was her reason to fight and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him. She just didn’t want him to see her like this. Snow and David worried about her, but they were also easily wrapped up in their own world. Henry was insightful. He picked up on the little things. He paid attention to the nuances in her words and body language. He would notice the hollow look in her eyes or the way her arms no longer fit the same way around him. She wasn’t sure she could convince him she was suffering from a twenty-four hour bug.  
He’s not convinced now if he was on his way over.

Emma was surprised Regina let him. Emma wouldn’t have. If she were really sick, she would have told him to stay away for a couple of days. She might not have a virus, but she wasn’t well. Why hadn’t he called her? She would have told him-

Her phone. She turned off her phone.

Emma dug through her jacket, retrieving the device from her pocket. She hit the side button and the screen lit up. Seven missed calls. She had seven missed calls?

She rolled through them, her heart lodging in her throat. Regina had called three more times after she turned off her phone, leaving a voicemail after each. Henry had called twice and both of her parents had tried to reach her in the last hour.

She bypassed Regina’s messages and pressed Henry’s name. His voice sounded on the other side and Emma’s heart fluttered, a small smile pulling at her lips.

_Hey, Ma! Why is your phone off? I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner tonight? Grandma said you missed Granny’s because you weren’t feeling well? Are you better? Call me if you need anything._

The second message was shorter.

_I guess your phone is still off. Grandma says I can come over for dinner. I hope that’s okay. Call me back._

Emma massaged her brow. She hadn’t considered Henry when she shut off her phone. She was too focused on her own issues. Maybe she was more like Snow and Charming than she cared to admit.

She eyed Regina’s name. She knew she needed to check the Mayor’s messages. She was likely annoyed with her. Emma had dodged protocol all day. At some point, she was going to have to face the woman. She dreaded that moment. It wasn’t likely to go well. Continually ignoring her wouldn’t make it better.

She pressed her name and took a steadying breath as she brought the phone to her ear. Listening to the message was like playing a recording after someone you love passes away. The sound of Regina’s voice filled Emma with both longing and sadness. It also comforted in a strange way. If she closed her eyes and focused on the voice alone, she could pretend the Queen was still alive. Deep inside Regina, maybe she still was. But did it matter? Their past together was erased. The Queen was gone from her life.

Emma pressed play again, listening to the words this time.

_Miss. Swan! Hanging up on me is inexcusable. I have tolerated your obvious avoidance of my calls, but I will not excuse this. I don’t care if you are sick. This town is our responsibility. There are procedures in place you are expected to follow. I expect to hear from you in the next hour._

That obviously hadn’t happened. Emma hit the next message and braced for impact. It wasn’t as bad as she expected. Still, she knew a threat when she heard one.

_One day. I’m giving you one day to pull yourself together and come to me on your own terms. I want to know what exactly is going on with you, and I don’t want the excuse you’ve been giving the Charming’s all day. We both know you aren’t sick. Don’t make me come find you, Emma. Tomorrow. My office. Before noon._

Emma stopped breathing. She stared at the dark clouds closing in on them and squeezed the phone tight, as if the device could somehow save her from the advancing storm.

Regina knew the truth.

No. Regina only knew Emma was lying about being sick. The truth wasn’t a conclusion she would easily jump to. There had to be something else Emma could say to explain her behavior.

_You know how I feel about lying too._

She did. She also knew how Regina would feel about this particular truth. Regina wasn’t that woman anymore. She wasn’t the Queen. Was she?

It was a question Emma had asked more than once in the Enchanted Forest. She worked hard to keep the two versions of the woman separate, which wasn’t always easy. The lines blurred, casting shadows of the woman she knew in Storybrooke. She saw Regina in a smile or tone of voice. The Queen wasn’t all bravado all the time. There were moments of caring and vulnerability, which Emma never pointed out. The Queen was likely to claw out a persons eyes for noticing.

But wouldn’t Regina do that too? The woman had learned to let her and Henry in, to see behind the masks she wore. That didn’t mean no one else was at risk of the woman’s temper. She had changed over the years. Enough to use light magic against Zelena, but old habits died hard. There were still plenty of signs of the Queen if she really looked. These days, they tended to appear if Henry was in danger or Regina’s happiness was threatened.

This situation was a threat to Regina’s happiness. She wasn’t sure how the Mayor would react if Emma’s time in the Enchanted Forest were exposed. What she did know was that she would never reveal the truth. No one else would ever understand what happened to her or why she still ached for the Queen. She wasn’t even sure Regina would understand. There had to be another way to fix this, without telling Regina everything.

She selected the third message and held her breath.

_Our son plans to visit you this evening. I assume you won’t avoid him as well?_

Emma scowled. She probably would have avoided him if she were more prepared. It was too late now. It was almost 4:30 pm. Henry would be there any second. He should have been there twenty minutes ago.

She grabbed her boots and sank back on the couch, fitting them over her feet.

“What are you doing?” Snow asked, glancing up from the stove.

“Henry should have been here by now. I’m going to find him.”

Snow dropped the spatula, her hand finding her hip. “You can’t go out there. You barely made it up the stairs.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. You’re father can look for Henry.”

Emma zipped up her boot and switched her legs. “David is still in the shower.”

“He’ll be done in a minute.”

Emma stood and tossed her best ‘yeah right’ expression in Snow’s direction. David’s showers were never “just a minute.” After several mornings of cold water, both she and Snow had demanded he take his showers at night when no one else would be the victim of an ice bath.

“I’m not leaving my son out in this weather. I’m his mother and-“

“And I’m your mother.” Snow stepped in front of the door. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

Emma bit back her retort. It would have been nice if she’d had that mentality thirty years ago. She exhaled slowly. “So we should just leave your grandson out there? You don’t need to take of him?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“The wind is picking up and-“

A flash of light brightened the room, thunder shaking the house.

“I’m going to find him.”

Snow grabbed her wrist as she attempted to skirt passed. “If you go out there right now, you’ll risk both of you being hurt. Let me call Regina, if you don’t want to wait for your father.”

“No way.” Emma shook her arm free. “Do you know how mad she will be if you tell her we lost her son?” Emma was not ready for that confrontation. She already had enough to worry about.

“Probably not as mad as she’ll be if you don’t tell her. Maybe he stopped there first.”

“Did he say that?” He hadn’t mentioned the mansion in his voicemail. Neither had Regina. Honestly, if Regina hadn’t left her the semi-threatening message about showing up tomorrow, she would worry Henry’s visit was an attempt to corner her. But it wasn’t. Both Regina and the Queen generally kept their promises. They set guidelines and they stuck to them. Regina would give her until lunch tomorrow and then Emma would have to worry. Which meant Henry was really out there in this storm, and already half an hour late. It was one of the few situations that would motivate the Mayor to action. Where their son was concerned, all bets were off.

“Snow, I’m going. So either get out of my way or help me.”

“I am helping you.”

“I know you’re trying, but-“

Snow grabbed her jacket. “You’re as pigheaded as your father, you know that?”

“I am not. I’m-“

The door creaked open, brown eyes peeking in from under a wet patch of maple hair.

“Hey!” Henry grinned at them. He kicked his tennis shoes off and closed the door. “Have you seen it out there? Mom said to make sure you know where your candles are. She doesn’t expect the power to hold out.”

“Great,” David replied, stepping out of the bathroom. “We haven’t even restored all the power outages the flying monkey’s caused.”

Henry hung up his coat and Emma pulled him to her. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her cheek on his head. Emotion bubbled up from her chest, a lump catching in her throat. Holding him after so long felt amazing. There were too many nights she was left wondering if she would ever see him again. She wondered what he would think happened to her, worried he’d believe she abandoned him. Even more terrifying was the knowledge that every day she stayed in the past was a day she might erase their history for good. Henry might disappear. Sometimes she worried he already had. What if the timeline hadn’t reached her yet? Maybe Henry was already gone. She would never know.

Seeing him now released a weight from her shoulders. He was safe and home with her, and had no idea why she was squeezing him so tightly.

“Ma. Ma! I’m okay.”

She cleared her throat and released him, thankful her stinging eyes hadn’t betrayed her. “Kid, you’re lucky I don’t strangle you. Where were you?”

He met her gaze, his head tilting in an all too Regina fashion. “Mom said I should stop and get some donuts?” He held up a bag. “She said you didn’t get yours this morning and that you should have a bear claw on her.”

Emma stared at the white bag. Rain drops spotted the crinkled paper like braille. Emma knew there weren’t really words etched on the bag, but she got the message loud and clear. She wasn’t sick and Regina was calling her on it.

“Do you want it?” Henry asked, lifting the bag. “You still don’t look that great.”

Emma’s stomach thundered nearly as loud as the storm. Regina may have sent the donut to make a point, but in a round about way she had also given Emma permission to eat what was in the bag. She could smell the frosted pasty and her mouth watered, the taste the cream filling ghosting over her tongue. She wanted the donut. It took all of her strength not to rip the bag from Henry’s hand. Doing so would definitely blow her cover. There was no way she could eat a bear claw if she couldn’t even keep down crackers. That was probably the Mayor’s plan. No doubt she would ask Henry about it later.

“Why don’t you have it.” Her voice was tight, her words forced through clenched teeth as she turned towards the couch.

Henry set the bag on the counter. “What happened?”

She clenched her fist, muscled tightening. She tried to keep her focus on her son, locking her legs in place. She would not take the bag. She wouldn’t. “It’s just a stomach virus.”

“We think it’s food poisoning,” Snow added. She was back at the stove, working on another sandwich.

The normally delicious scent of cheese and bread made Emma’s stomach clench as it mixed with the sweet aroma of the pastry. She knew that didn’t make any sense. She shouldn’t have been able to smell the frosting unless she stuck her head in the bag. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, or her starving body heightened her sense of smell, zeroing in on the one thing she was allowed to eat.

Henry’s eyes narrowed, his nose scrunched. “Food poisoning? From what?”

Emma shrugged. Yesterday was three months ago for her. She couldn’t remember what she ate before falling into the portal and wasn’t about to give an answer that would require additional explaining. “Not sure.”

“You have to have some idea. I mean we ate most of our meals together yesterday and I’m not sick.”

“That’s a good point,” Snow agreed.

They were headed down a dangerous path. As happy as Emma was to see her son, this was the reason she planned to keep her distance. Henry asked questions she didn’t have the answers for and he didn’t let things drop. It was a trait her got from her. When she found a trail to follow, she was like a dog with a bone. She was responsible for his persistence, but the look he gave her now was all Regina, a mix of skeptical and dissatisfied.

“I don’t know what caused it, Henry.”

“Why don’t you at least try a bite of this sandwich,” Snow suggested.

“I don’t want the sandwich.”

Henry grabbed a plate. “You look like you’ve been sick longer than a day, Ma. Are you sure it’s bug?”

“No, Henry, I’m not. Did your mom put you up to these questions?”

“No. But she did say to remind you to be in her office by noon. Are you two fighting? She doesn’t usually doesn’t approve of your bear claw obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession. And no we’re not fighting.” She didn’t think. Between the voicemails and the donut she was starting to wonder. She knew ignoring the Mayor’s calls was a bad idea, but there wasn’t any way around it. Facing Regina wasn’t an option, but avoiding her might have made things worse. She had run in to too many people today and the walls were closing in with each question she didn’t have an answer for. Her palms felt sticky. Her lungs weighted like lead in her chest. She struggled to take deep breath and a sharp ringing sound muffled her ears. She could hear voices, but they were distant, filtered to her through a veil.

“She seemed upset.”

“What?” Emma asked. She gripped the counter top, steadying herself. Was she swaying? Or was the world tilting again.

“She was trying to hide it, but I could tell she was irritated,” Henry said around a bite of sandwich.

“She didn’t like that Emma missed work, today,” Snow stated.

“No, she didn’t like that Emma missed her calls,” David argued.

“Why was your phone off, Ma?”

Too far. The world was tilting too far.

“Emma!”

Snow and David leapt up at the same time, each of them grabbing an arm. Her legs had turned to jello, her muscles wavering each time she attempted a step on her own. She had messed up. She should never have left the Enchanted Forest. She should never have left the Queen. Erased memories meant nothing. Regina would find out. The Queen would find out what she had done.

“Sit down.” Snow guided her to a bar stool, helping her climb into place. “Just take a deep breath.”

“I’m fine,” Emma said, repeating the words in a soft whisper.

“You’re not fine.” Snow grabbed a plate and pushed it in front of her. “You need to eat.”

“I told you, I don’t want it. I’m not hungry.”

“Emma, I can hear your stomach growling.”

“That doesn’t mean I feel like eating.”

Snow pushed the plate closer. “You need to at least try.”

“I said I don’t want it!” Emma’s hands slammed down on the table, stinging her palms.The pain was enough to jolt her out of her panic, though not enough to help her think clearly. Three wide sets of eyes stared at her, and Emma knew she’d blown her cover. They weren’t going to believe she was sick. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. Nothing she could think of would explain what just happened. She pushed from the stool and bolted for the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the one you have all been waiting for. Regina and Emma will finally face each other, and the chapter will be in Regina's POV! Thanks again for reading and commenting. Your feedback keeps me inspired.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 is finally here! I'm sorry for the delayed update. It has been a busy couple of weeks, but I will hopefully be back on a more regular update schedule now. Thank you for all your support and feedback!

Regina strummed her fingers against the table as she chewed her salad. Her eyes were on Robin but her mind was on other matters. One in particular. Emma Swan. The girl’s failure to answer her calls had struck a nerve, which she never recommended. Defiance was a challenge she embraced. It was also a common trait in her Sheriff. Emma was stubborn and prickly. She knew how to get under Regina’s skin. Though Regina thought they were passed the point of Emma needing a firm hand.

Working with the girl took tact and strategy. More so than Regina was used to. She had encountered her fair share of resistance during her time as the Evil Queen. In general, most people took only a little prodding to break. A calculated jab to an old wound was enough to shatter their heroic theatrics. That wasn’t the case with Emma. It never was. When Henry brought her to Storybook, Regina used all her old standbys and each of them failed.

It had infuriated her. At first. She wasn’t used to being out maneuvered. But, she hadn’t become the Queen - or they Mayor - by giving up. When attacking Emma’s vulnerabilities didn’t bear results, she switched tactics. It didn’t take her long to realize Emma responded better to honey than vinegar. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought about that to begin with. A child without a home or family had likely survived worse nightmares than the Mayor was capable of conjuring. Emma had learned survival tactics. That didn’t mean she was without a soft spot to exploit. She just had to find it. Emma was excellent at building walls. Regina guessed she wasn’t as good at warding off kindness.

She was right.

The more Regina had reached out to Emma, the more confused the girl became. A few encouraging words or an offered drink lowered Emma’s defenses, allowing the Mayor more control over the situation. That didn’t mean she and Emma were suddenly without their issues. At the time, Regina had every intention of ridding her town of the blonde, but their dynamic shifted. Emma became more compliant to her leadership and more troubled by her disapproval. As long as Regina didn’t push too hard.

There was a thin line with Emma. Regina learned to balance it. The few times she crossed that line, Emma regressed back to stone walls and aggression. Each time she went too far, it became more difficult to earn her trust again.

Crumbling Emma’s defenses became a game. Each time she seeped beneath the Savior’s surface, she found herself both intrigued and enticed. Old impulses flared deep within her, the desire to see Emma submit strengthening. A few incantations would have had Emma eating out her hand. Without magic, she was forced to stick to mind games.

By the time Rumpel brought magic to Storybook, their relationship had changed again. Regina tried to pretend there wasn’t a connection between them. Well a connection more than sexual tension and her desire to own Emma Swan. She liked Emma. At the very least, she respected her. There were few people brave enough to stand up to her. Emma continued to do so even after Regina got her magic back. She was foolish to show up at the Manor, accusing her of killing the cricket. Regina was trying to change for Henry’s sake, but she would always do whatever it took to keep her son. The blast of power flew from her fingertips, spiraling Emma through the air.

Emma hit the ground hard. The look of disorientation on her face sent a heated pulse between her thighs. It took all her strength to remain stationary. Every instinct she had urged her forward. Her fists clenched, imagining the feel of silken strands wrapped around her fingers. Her skin vibrated with power. How she would have loved to drag the Savior inside by her hair. Emma was passed due for a lesson, and she longed to teach it to her.

She could have. Her magic would have held the two idiots back. She even suspected after a certain amount of time, Emma would comply with her sovereignty.

But she had made Henry a promise, and despite her anger, she wasn’t sure submission was all she wanted from Emma. That didn’t mean she couldn’t influence and seduce her. She had spent a year teaching Emma to respond to subtle cues. Those responses didn’t go away when the curse broke. She was delighted to find Emma reacting to her, despite her newly formed relationship with her parents.

Leaving her with the Charmings took more self-control than she possessed. From the moment Regina met Emma Swan, there was an odd sense of familiarity. Regina could never place it. It wasn’t the way Emma looked, or even the similarities the woman shared with their son. It was something deeper, a part of her that recognized Emma as her own.

She ignored strange sensation, but was unable to rid her body of the phantom instincts. She often found herself reaching for Emma, guiding or instructing her. It felt natural to have Emma at her side, to keep her near. Those feelings only grew stronger as she and Emma grew closer.

In Neverland, she wondered if there might be more between them. Emma was one of the few people she considered a ‘friend.’ But, she wanted more. Each time Emma chose her, each time they used magic together….

_Don’t tell me what’s enough. My son is dying._

_Our son. So yes. I know how you feel._

_You have no idea what I feel. You have your parents. You have this… person. You have a pirate who pines for you. You have everything and yet you claim to know what I feel? All I have is Henry and I am not about to lose him because he is everything._

_Y_ _ou’re right. I don’t know what you feel. You want to run the show? Run it. How do we save Henry?_

That was the moment she knew, Emma Swan was hers. She didn’t care about Neal or the pirate. When they returned home, when they defeated Pan, she would speak with Emma. She would tell her how she felt, and she would win her over.

Only that didn’t happen. Pan had cast a curse and she was forced to leave Henry and Emma behind. The pain was unbearable. Losing Henry tore at her heart. But, she was surprised by the intensity of Emma’s loss. She threw herself into destroying Zelena. Directing her anger at the green witch was therapeutic and gave her a reason to keep going.

And then there was Robin. He was a welcome distraction, she had cared for him. She did care for him. But lately she wondered if they had missed their opportunity to be together. She didn’t doubt he was her soulmate at one time. A lot had changed since then. She wasn’t the same person Tinkerbell lead to that tavern years ago. Maybe they would have worked out in the Enchanted Forest. But in Storybrooke? Now that Emma and Henry were back, she wasn’t sure how she felt.

Emma’s year in New York had changed the blonde too. She had found love while Regina was away and almost married… A monkey, but still a serious relationship. The pirate was in her life now.

She scowled. She wanted Emma to be happy, but Hook….

Fire burned in her chest. If Charming was right and Emma had left him, she wasn’t sure she could sit by and wait for them to get back together, or for Emma to move on. She needed to speak with Emma. She needed to know what was going on. The Sheriff’s silence irritated her. She was trying to be patient, but as far as she could tell, there wasn’t any reason for Emma to ignore her calls. She knew for a fact Emma wasn’t sick and Hook had nothing to do with her. Something else was wrong. Something Regina was determined to get to the bottom of.

Her cell phone vibrated, startling both her and Robin. Normally she had strict rules about cell phones at the dinner table. Under the circumstances, she was making an exception.

_“You’re not turning off your cell phone?” Robin asked, holding out her chair._

_"We didn’t cover as much ground today as I would have liked, and this storm likely means calls from helpless citizens who have suddenly forgotten how to use a flashlight.”_

The lie rolled easily off her tongue. In reality, she couldn’t have cared less about power outages. The town could survive a few days using candle light. It wasn’t like they weren’t familiar with the lifestyle.

Robin’s brows raised as she checked the screen. “It’s Henry.” She removed the napkin from her lap and pushed her chair back. “Do you mind?”

“You know I don’t. Your son is your first priority. I should probably call my men and check on mine.”

Regina nodded, answering the call as she stepped from the room. “Henry? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

She knew that voice. His tone was tight, his words spoken carefully. “Then what is it?”

“I-“ He paused, uncertain. “It’s Ma,” He finally stated.

Regina sighed. She had expected as much. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t think so. Mom, she looks really bad. Like  _really_  bad.”

Regina’s brow creased. “What does that mean?”

“She’s really pale or gray and-“

“And what?”

“Frail. Mom, she looks like she’s going to have a breakdown. She almost passed out at dinner and she just looks… really freaked.”

“Henry,” she admonished.

“Scared. She looks scared. Like she knows what’s wrong but…” He trailed off again. “She didn’t eat the grilled cheese grandma made.”

“You can’t fault her for that. Snow’s cooking isn’t the greatest,” Regina remarked. In her opinion, Snow’s cooking barely bordered on edible. However, she had yet to see a grilled cheese Emma didn’t eat, regardless of who made it.

“She didn’t eat your bear claw either.”

Regina didn’t answer. She paced the marble floor, her mind racing with possibilities. There was very little that could affect Emma’s appetite and still leave her able to sprint through the forest. Was it possible Zelena had carried out a last-ditch effort to destroy them? She had witnessed worse curses than Henry was describing. She had cast worse curses. But, Zelena’s mind didn’t work like hers. The witches’ satisfaction wasn’t just in revenge, but in the game. She liked to prolong the experience, toying with her enemies. At least Regina got right to the point. Her enemies were lucky to draw their next breath if she found them. There was no part of her that enjoyed the game of cat and mouse she had played with Snow for years.

“What do your grandparent think?” She couldn’t believe she was asking the opinion of the Charming idiots. They weren’t likely to have a clue if something were seriously wrong with Emma, especially if it was the result of magic.

“They think it’s food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning.” She took a steadying breath. The words were Emma’s. She was almost sure of it, a distraction from the real problem. Of course Snow bought it.

“It’s not food poisoning, Mom. Food poisoning wouldn’t make her scared. She panicked. She yelled at grandma.”

Regina couldn’t say she disapproved of Emma’s frustration, but an outburst like that was somewhat out of character. “Where is she now?”

“In her room. She ran up there and locked herself in. She isn’t answering anyone.”

“So she doesn’t know you called me?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way. I will be there in a few minutes.”

 

  **Emma’s POV**

“Emma?” Snow’s voice chimed, high pitched and shrill. It was her third attempt in the last five minutes to open the door.

“Go away.”

“We just want to talk.” Her father this time. He, at least, had let her have a moment to think before he caved to Snow’s incessant whining.

“I don’t want to talk.”

She wanted to be left alone. What didn’t they get about that?

Emma paced the bedroom, fingers tangled in her hair. What was she thinking? This was bound to happen. She should have left Storybrooke. She should have hit then gas for New York the minute she jumped in her Volkswagen last night. Her apartment was under lease for another month. She planned to go back for the rest of their stuff. She could have used that as an excuse and taken some time away. It would have worked. For a little while.

It was too late now. Sure, she could make a break for it, but she’d have to dodge passed the Charming football team. They wouldn’t let her just leave town. Not after her outburst. Not in this storm. Not after running out on her job and losing consciousness in the park.

Even without her suspicious behavior, Henry would want to go, which meant a conversation with Regina. She couldn’t take him without consulting the Mayor. Regina would track her down, defeating the purpose.

Was staying an option though?

She wasn’t sure what other choice she had. She could hide out for a few days, but there weren’t many people or places she could count on. Granny would let her crash. She also wouldn’t rat Emma out if she confided in her. But hiding her? She figured that was where Granny drew the line. She wouldn’t keep her location from Snow and David, especially if Snow turned on the waterworks.

There was only one other person she could think to talk to and she really didn’t want to go there. Desperate as she was, she didn’t need to make a deal that would land her in more trouble later. Rumpel was willing to help her during their venture into the past, but she had information he wanted. Her knowledge of Neal went a long way. Enough for him to agree to disguise her and help set the future straight again.

And to hide her when the Queen inevitably came….

" _Rumpel!”_

_Emma froze. The Queen’s voice reverberated off the stone walls, scratching at the surface of her new glamour. Her eyes flicked to Rumpel, alarm etched on her face. They both knew the Queen would come. She was surprised she hadn’t come sooner. Emma had escaped days ago. She held her breath constantly, waiting for dark woman to appear and drag her back to the castle._

Or more likely the dungeon _, she thought._

_“This is your chance, Princess. You might not get another,” Rumpel whispered._

_She knew that. They’d gone over their plans for days. Any way they looked at it, erasing the Queen’s memories was a risk. The chances of Emma getting back in the castle and out again were slim. Her guards had doubled, and there were enchantments and traps. Not to mention the queen had sensed her glamour before and likely would again._

_Here and now? Rumble’s magic near her could be overlooked. She might be seen as a servant. Hopefully. Her own magic would be a problem._

_Getting her power back meant her signature was detectable. She couldn’t sense it, but Rumpel had picked up on her presense instantly. She didn’t doubt the Queen would as well. Could she really do this?_

_“Don’t wait too long, dearie.” Rumpel didn’t give her a choice. His hand shot out and power forced Emma back, pinning her to the corner. An iridescent light floated down in front of her like a stage curtain concealing her from view._

_Emma held her breath._

_The strike of the Queen’s boots increased their tempo and the parlor doors flew open. Emma’s blood ran cold. She was used to the Queen’s intensity. In their months together, Emma had witnessed looks of rage, disgust and hatred at the mention of Snow White. What she saw now was worse. The Queen looked like a goddess of retribution and death, bearing down on them. There was no light in her eyes. The coal-black irises scoured the room, sharp and accusing._

_“To what do I owe the please, Your Majesty?” Rumple shoulders relaxed as he crossed his legs, folding his fingers together._

_“Where is she?” The Queen growled._

_“I don’t know who you mean, dearie.”_

_The Queen stalked closer, fingers twitching at her side. “The girl. The one I removed your glamour from. The one I imprisoned for helping Snow White.”_

_Rumpel contorted his face into a melodramatic look of confusion. “It’s not ringing any bells.”_

_“Isn’t it?” She tightened her jaw. Her next words came out slow, restrained violence coloring her tone. “I can’t find her with my mirrors. She couldn’t evade my magic on her own and there is only one person I know who could help her. You.”_

_“And why would I do that?”_

_The Queen’s eyes narrowed. “That is the question, isn’t it? Why would you help her? What deal did you make with her?”_

_“Are you willing to make me a better one?”_

_The Queen paused and a flash of yearning crossed her face. She was considering it? What would Rumpel do if she did?_

_Emma’s heart lurched. The Queen wasn’t just angry. Not if she was willing to make a deal with the devil. She was… what? Sad? Heartbroken? Those adjectives didn’t fit their situation or the woman before her. Betrayed was probably a better word. Either way, Emma recognized the brief glimpse of pain and it was too much._

_For days she had fought the urge to return to the palace. She kept away thoughts of surrender by picturing Henry’s face. He needed her to go back to her own time. They all did. If they wanted to keep their future intact, she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t give in. But, she was losing her will to resist. Her body shook as muscles strained. She dug her heels into the stone floor and focused on breathing. Her skin was flushed, her chest constricting. She imagined the queen’s fingers around her heart and her left foot slid forward. She needed to go to the queen, the throw herself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness._

_How could she have left? The Queen trusted her, had given her a home and -_

_And what? Love?_

_She shook the thought from her mind. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that. The Queen had shown her acceptance. She took every part of Emma and didn’t cringe away from the darkest places. She handled them with care; always comforting, coaxing and seducing. She cared for Emma in a way no one ever had before. Not one of her foster homes. Not even her real parents. The Queen held her and rocked her. The Queen chased away her demons and healed old scars. The Queen sat up with her when she couldn’t sleep. She gave careful consideration to each piece of clothing, and each style for her hair. She made Emma feel wanted._

_Originally rebelled against the Queen’s care. She felt awkward allowing the Queen to feed or dress her. But the child inside adored those moments, adored the affection. And the Queen knew. She knew, even as Emma fought against her, that Emma needed those walls torn down. Once inside, the Queen rebuilt the protective bricks around them both._

_E_ _mma didn’t understand the extent of the Queen’s feelings for her. What she did know was that underneath the woman’s cold exterior, the Queen cared for her in some way. While she might not admit it, the Queen had formed an attachment to her too. And Emma trampled over it. The Queen had lost so much: Daniel, her innocence, her happiness and freedom. She lost her dreams and hope for love. And now Emma. She had abandoned her queen too._

_Emma’s heart convulsed and a sob toe from her throat. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t._

_She rushed forward and collided with the invisible barrier. She gasped. Stumbling back, she blinked rapidly, her hand stretching forward. She made contact with the magical shield and tapped. The barrier glimmered, light rippling over the smooth surface. It was solid._

_Rumpel._

_The boundary wasn’t just protecting her. It was stopping her. He knew she would run. He wasn’t going to give her another change to mess up the future. Not with his son’s life on the line._

_She gazed at the dark woman’s face and thought of home. The Queen might want her to stay, but Regina would want her to go home. Wouldn’t she?_

_Emma wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. She wasn’t sure Regina would want her in Storybooke if she knew the truth. Emma had betrayed her on so many levels. Regina wouldn’t have shown her such a personal glimpse into her past life. And the Queen? She would have killed her if she knew who Emma really was. The daughter of Snow White. She wouldn’t have let Emma earn her trust. She was right not to._

_A sharp pain stabbed at her lungs. She’d earned the Queen’s trust and left. She owed the Queen penance, but she couldn’t make things right. Her only consolation was that she’d save Henry. Regina would have love one day. She would have their son. For that to happen, Emma had to leave and the Queen had to forget._

_Emma trembled, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. She lifted the wand, took a deep breath and another._

This is your chance, Princess. You might not get another.

_Emma closed her eyes and pulled at her magic. She felt the warm tingle in her blood and energy crackled through the air. When she finally looked up, The Queen staggered back, a befuddled look on her face._

_“What am I doing here?”_

_Rumpel didn’t miss a beat. “Searching for Snow White. She’s evaded your mirrors but the protection will wear of very soon.”_

_The Queen seethed. “Is there a reason you helped her?”_

_A gleeful giggle bubbled between his teeth. “She had something I needed.” He held up a vile Emma doubted came from Snow. “A half day undetected will hardly deter your plans, Your Majesty. I’ll gladly help you find her. For a price of course.”_

_"Save it, Imp. I don’t need your help, but don’t involve yourself in my affairs again.”_

_Rumpel cackled. “Empty threats, dearie.”_

_Emma wasn’t sure they her threats were empty. She knew Regina eventually took Belle. Who knew what else she was capable of? A wounded animal was always more dangerous, and the look in the Queen’s eyes…. Emma had taken her memories but not her grief. She had scratched an old wound and forgetting wouldn’t fix that._

_“We’ll see,” the Queen whispered._

_She lifted her hand and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. The barrier dropped away and Emma’s heart shredded. The Queen was gone. From the castle and from her life. She would never feel the safety of her arms. She would never feel warm lips on her cheek or the tickle of a whispered breath in her ear. The Queen wouldn’t wake her during a nightmare, holding her close. There wouldn’t be soft kisses when Emma pleased her, no gentle fingers in her hair or silken skin against her own._

_Emma collapsed against the wall. Her actions were necessary but only one thought ran through her mind._

What have I done?

 

  **Regina’s POV**

Regina stared at the loft door, fingers trailing over the distilled wood. There were no voices on the other side, but tension batted against her senses like the torrent of rain against the rooftop. It pelted her fingertips, sending her magic spiraling.

Emma.

The blonde's power was a weak undercurrent in the emotions seeping beneath the door. Regina's nostril flared. The scent was as unique as her own: forest rain, lilacs and a lighter, sweet scent that was reminiscent of butterscotch. Emma's signature was never strong. Not like her own. Emma hadn't used magic long enough for the scent to truly linger, but Regina was always able to pick up on it.

Normally, her magic was a steady presence; a smooth current. What Regina felt now faded in and out, drifting to her so faintly, she struggled to latch onto it. It slipped between the grasping tendrils of her own power and disappeared.

Regina frowned. Emma's power was weak. Which meant Emma was weak. But why? She was becoming more alarmed that she had missed a lurking threat from Zelena. Or perhaps another threat entirely? They weren't positive something hadn't sneaked through the time portal. There were plenty of creatures throughout the realms that could play with a witches magic. None of them were good.

She twisted the doorknob and walked inside, not bothering to announce her presence. No one noticed. No one but Henry. He looked at her with pleading eyes, while Charming paced in front of the couch, his hands twisting and turning over some sort of puzzle. He wasn't solving it.

His eyes were clouded and distant, the corner of his lips set in a deep frown. A matching line ran the length of his forehead. If she hadn't known him better, she would have feared for the feeble gears turning in his mind. The last year taught her the expression had nothing to do with thought. It was his heart she saw on his face, and an emotion she recognized: worry of a parent who could do nothing for their child.

Mary Margaret was hidden behind the kitchen island. She scrubbed at a hand-painted dish, her body trembling as her hand swiped back and forth. Her eyebrows knitted together in acute concentration, as if the stubborn spot would move, if she willed it hard enough. Or rather the stubborn savior.

Regina pulled at the fingers of her black gloves and removed her coat. "Where's Emma?"

Snow's green eyes met hers before rising to the stairs.

Regina resisted the urge to throw her into the nearest brick wall. Had they even tried to handle the situation? Or was dusting Emma's problems underneath the nearest rug just second nature to them at this point? No doubt, whatever attempt they had made was done for their own comfort and not Emma's.

Regina kept her thoughts to herself and glided passed them. She would have better luck breaking through a steal vault with a hammer than removing the veil from Snow's eyes. She had tried for many years to remove the stain of selfishness left by Leopold and Eva's coddling. It was a fruitless endeavor. Right now she had more important concerns. The blonde upstairs was her top priority. She would deal with Snow and the tactless prince afterwards.

She ascended the stairs quickly, pausing on the landing. Emma's magical scent was stronger there, but just as inconsistent; a tattered quilt of power, frayed and covered with holes.

She tested the door handle, giving a light twist in either direction. Locked. She assumed as much. Snow wouldn't scrub dishes if she could hound and smother her daughter.

Lifting a hand, Regina rapped her knuckles against the wooden frame.

"I said I don't want to talk about it!"

Regina lifted a sculpted brow, her red lips pursing. Emma's voice was strained, her hackles raised. It was easy to misinterpret the tone of voice as stress or frustration. Regina wasn't fooled. She knew her Sheriff better than most and recognized the quaking sound. It pulled at her chest, eliciting a mirrored response, a tender empathy she somehow shared with the woman if she focused hard enough. Henry was right. Emma was scared and in pain.

Her hand drifted over the key hole and the lock clicked open. Slowly, softly, Regina twisted the knob and stepped through.

She pulled up short. The sight before her stole her breath, pupils widening in the pale lamp-light.

Emma sat on the bed, head cradled in her hands. Her fingers twisted into frail strands of hair as she rocked back and forth. A delicate whimper keened from the woman's throat. The sound was helpless and fragile and not at all like her savior.

Nothing about the woman in front of her was like her savior.

Emma's jacket was discarded near the end of the bed. She wore only a baggy pair of blue jeans and her signature white tank top. It floated over her torso, attempting to cling to gray-colored skin it no longer fit. Though Emma was still toned, she had clearly lost significant weight. What the hell had happened?

She licked her lips, tasting the air for signs of a curse. She found none, though new scents flooded her nose. While Emma's magic was still most prominent, there were two other scents hovering close. The cinnamon apple scent belonged to her.

She sniffed again. Garlic and ginger root masked with honey. Emma had gone to the imp for something and recently. But while he had the potential to harm Emma, she saw no motive or benefit for him to do so. Especially not these days. He was wrapped up with Belle, the two of them enjoying the bliss of married life. She didn't doubt Rumpel would drift back into old habits. He was addicted to power and eventually the temptation for more would be too much.

Eventually. It was still too soon. The magic around Emma wasn't sinister. It was simple in its production. It hadn't required much thought or work, meaning it was most likely reflexive. For most, reflexive magic was used for travel, transporting items or changing clothes. With Rumpel's power? A lot more fell into that category. Parting the sea could be a reflex for him, depending on the situation.

Regina stepped closer, the strike of her heels drawing green eyes. Emma's head snapped up and Regina crossed her arms.

"You actually convinced people that this," Regina gestured to Emma's condition, "is the result of a virus?"

She waited for Emma to say something. Anything. The blonde’s eyes widened and her cheeks drained of what little color they held. She licked her lips, her eyes darting around the room. They landed everywhere except on her.

Regina tilted her head. Emma wasn’t speaking but her body said enough. Her Sheriff shared so many mannerisms with their son. The fidgeting and inability to meet her gaze were huge tells. Emma wasn’t just afraid or nervous. She was guilty.

“Why have you avoided my calls today? What’s going on?”

More fidgeting. Emma’s fingers picked at the frayed ends of the blanket. “I wasn’t-“

“Stop.” Regina held up her hand and Emma stilled, shoulders tight. “We both know you did. We also both know you aren’t ill. I saw you yesterday. Viruses in this world don't do… this!”

Regina looked more carefully over Emma’s weakened frame. She wasn’t skeletal but the amount of weight Emma had lost in a day was alarming. Her color was pale gray, turning slightly green as she gazed at Regina. There was a chance that was more of a cognitive correlation. There was a storm brewing behind the sea green eyes. Her Sheriff was troubled, which explained the circles under her eyes, but not the weight loss. “What happened?”

“Regina…” Emma cleared her throat. “I promise it’s nothing. It’s been a rough couple days.”

The words were tight, strained. Regina’s eyes narrowed. “Look at me, Emma.”

Emma’s continual lack of eye contact hadn’t gone unnoticed. Neither did the way Emma’s eyes flashed to her own. The response was instant; a throw of a switch.

Regina paused, contemplating. Considering Emma’s state, she expected more resistance. The Sheriff put up walls when she was afraid, which Regina was careful not to strike too hard. Each step she took was calculated, like navigating a mine field. One wrong move could make Emma shut down or run. The closer she got to the center of a problem, the more Emma fought her. Obedience was not one of Emma Swan’s strengths. But this… Something had changed.

A familiar tingle crept down her spine, urging her to continue, urging her to push. Deep inside, a part of her that had lain dormant for the last two decades raised her head, blinking sleep from her eyes. Emma was always a temptation for her. It took more restraint than she cared to admit not to fall back on old habits where the savior was concerned. As Queen, she was an expert at prodding beneath the surface of a person and pealing back their layers, seeing just how far she could go. As Mayor, she didn’t require those skills.

Under the curse, her citizens were one dimensional. There were no layers to strip them of. She knew who they were and their motivations. They wore their buttons on their sleeves, easy to find and push. She grew bored quickly and after a few years, the lack of stimulation nearly drove her insane. Raising Henry eventually brought her joy and fulfillment. He distracted her from the monotony of her day-to-day life. She was able to suppress her desire to dominate. Until Emma Swan came to town. Having an enemy brought back the familiar need to conquer and pry. If she hadn’t been desperate to rid the town of the Savior, she might have indulged.

Regina inhaled slowly and clenched her fists, waiting for the feeling to pass. If Emma was showing her trust, she couldn’t take advantage of that. She wouldn’t take advantage of that. Still, a firm hand wouldn’t hurt. At this point it was necessary.

“Enough games, Emma. I want the truth.”

The blonde swallowed. Her chest rose and fell faster, her fists bunching in the tattered quilt. She clamped down on her jaw, rebelling. Or trying to. She didn’t want to answer, but was clearly struggling not to.

_She’s been trained._

The voice was deeper than her own, gravel and shards of class camouflaged by soft velvet. The Queen.

Regina blinked, startled by the intrusive thought. Trained? How many pets had the Queen trained? How often had she witnessed this same behavior? She conditioned them to answer and if she did her job well, these internal battles faded. Their resistance faded. For some the process took days, others weeks and for the rare few months. Those were the ones she kept. When she completed their training, their spirits weren’t crushed. She held them carefully in her hands, continually shaping them like soft clay.

Regina tried to push the thought from her mind, but the words had already anchored in her chest. The longer she stared at Emma, the more certain she was the words were true. It explained the guilt and Emma’s lack of sleep and appetite. Emma had been trained, but by whom? And when?

The only person who might have motivation was Zelena, but-

The portal.

It was the only explanation. Emma hadn’t listed to her last night. She went back to the barn and she went through the portal. That was the reason Emma was avoiding her. The Sheriff had ignored her warning and fallen through the portal. But into whose arms?

The thought of anyone else claiming Emma scorched her lungs. The Savior was hers. Perhaps not officially, but the idea of another bringing Emma to her knees lit a fire in her blood, red tinting her vision. She wasn’t sure what enraged her more: knowing someone else had seeped beneath the blonde’s surface, or that Emma had let them. She knew the amount of fight the woman possessed. There were very few things that would keep Emma from retaliating or escaping. With her magic, there was no reason she shouldn’t have succeeded. And who would have motive? Rumpel?

It wasn’t his style.

Then who…

_Who is she running from, dear?_

Regina inhaled sharp and Emma flinched. No. That wasn’t possible. Zelena’s portal was opened to a time before she was born. Finding the Queen was impossible. Wasn’t it?

She wracked her brain. Surely she would remember Emma no matter when they first met. She was certain she’d never encountered her before Henry brought her to Storybooke.

The fear in Emma’s eyes were hard to argue with. The green irises were pleading and uncertain, gauging her movements and fighting her command.

No, not a command. Her expectations. Her words were more than a request but she hadn’t commanded them. What would happen if she did? Would Emma respond?

Regina’s heart rate doubled as she shut the door behind her. “Stand.”

Emma rose to her feet and winced, a sign of an internal curse Regina was sure. She hadn’t meant to obey. But she  _had._

"What happened down stairs?” She tested.

“I lost control.”

Simple answer. It was smart. Emma clearly didn’t want to have this conversation. Her body was responding without her. “Why? What made you lose control?”

“What do you think?” Emma snapped.

Regina lifted a brow and the blonde shrank back, eyes dropping to the floor. “Sorry.”

Regina ignored the outburst. For now. “What made you lose control, Emma?”

“Snow. You know how she gets.”

Regina did know, but that answer wasn’t going to cut it.

_She’s avoiding you…_

Regina knew that.

_The question is, will she avoid me?_

Regina clamped down on the voice. That was a dangerous question, and an even more dangerous game. The Queen was part of her. While Regina had found balance, there were certain lines she knew better than to cross. Despite her path of redemption, there were still temptations, still weaknesses she needed to avoid.

_Then how will you know the truth? You need to take the answers._

“Emma.” Regina took a deep breath. She didn’t need to descend into darkness to get the answers she sought. She only needed to project her former self.

She crept forward, her lips turning up at the corners. Slowly, she lifted a hand and Emma sucked in a breath. Regina tucked a stray hair behind her ear and traced her jaw, catching the Sheriff’s chin. “I’m going to ask this only once more. What made you lose control?”

Emma’s eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t want the grilled cheese.”

Regina didn’t press. Not yet. Even if her instincts were correct, this was still Emma. Slow was always best. “And the bear claw? You didn’t want that?”

Pearl white teeth bit into perfect pink lips. Emma shook her head and her body tensed. A lie.

_She needs correcting._

_Quiet._

She would do this her way. Not as the Queen, but as the woman she was now. She released Emma’s chin and held out her hand. The donut bag appeared in a puff of purple smoke. She unrolled the paper, watching a flurry of emotions pass over Emma’s face. She reached in, removing the chocolate glazed pastry, and held it out.

“You need to eat.”

Emma shook her head, though Regina wasn’t certain what pretense she was attempting to keep up. She wasn’t ill and from what Regina could tell, there was only one thing Emma could be hiding.

“I’m okay. Really. I don’t want any.”

“That wasn’t an observation, Emma.” She lifted the pastry and the blonde’s nostrils flared. “It’s time to eat. Now.”

Regina held her breath and hardened her gaze, counting silently. One. Two.

Emma’s hand extended, trembling but obedient. She placed the donut between her lips and bit. Emma’s eyes closed, she shoulders dropping as she sighed. The next bite came more quickly, followed by another until the Sheriff was licking confectionary sugar from her fingertips. That was the Emma she knew. The woman could devour an entire bag of donuts, if Regina let her. Looking at Emma’s withered appearance, she nearly considered it, but Emma needed nutrients. Not filler.

“Let’s go.”

Emma’s eyes opened. “Where?”

“Downstairs.”

“Regina, I don’t think-“

Regina didn’t wait. She turned on her heel, listening for Emma’s footsteps. They followed as she suspected they would. Her gut churned. None of this was hard evidence and there was still a lot she didn’t have answers for. Her mind told her it was impossible for Emma to have found her way to the Queen. Her gut and the Sheriff’s responses told her something different. Emma had found her and they’d spent a significant time together. She didn’t know how she felt about that, but there would be time for answers later. First-things-first.

“Emma!” Snow’s shrill voice sounded like a coo-coo clock as they reached the bottom step. “Are you alright? Your father and I just want to help.”

“Your help isn’t needed, Snow,” Regina answered. Her hand hovered near the small of Emma’s back, guiding her to the nearest bar stool.

“She’s my daughter, Regina.”

“I’m aware.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Regina seriously doubted that. Snow had never shown the greatest maternal instincts with either of her children. Sticking Emma in a tree was bad enough, but she had hired the Wicked Witch as a nanny for Neal only days ago. She didn’t need Snow’s interference and Emma didn’t need her smothering. If she had conditioned her, Emma wouldn’t respond well to anyone but her giving orders. Snow’s coddling would end badly again and again.

“I know how to take care of my daughter,” Snow tried again.

“I’m sure you do, dear. But the situation is handled.”

“Handled. What does that mean?”

Regina looked up, the tight smile she had perfected as Mayor gracing her lips. “It means Emma will take that grilled cheese.” She held her hand out for the plate and placed it in front of the Sheriff. “Eat.”

Emma took a bite, startling as Regina moved towards the door. “Wait,” Her brows pulled together, her nose scrunching. “Is that it?”

“We’ll speak more in the morning. I expect you to be at work on time.”

Emma nodded.

Regina grabbed her coat and stood near the door, watching the blonde scarf down her sandwich. Her fingers twitched at her side, old instincts flaring. She told herself it was worry. She wanted to keep Emma close to monitor the situation, but she couldn’t quite convince herself of the lie. Leaving Emma at the loft, given what she suspected was becoming increasingly difficult, but it wasn’t just her concern for Emma’s well-being. If she was right… She wasn’t sure what the next step was. All she really knew was that their interaction tonight had strengthened her feelings towards Emma, conflicting her thoughts.

_You should be taking her home. She’s yours._

Regina ignored the voice. Not yet. She needed more proof. And even then...

Her stomach dropped, twisting and churning. She knew what it took to break a person like Emma. It wouldn’t have happened quickly. If she was responsible, Emma was with her for a while and as far as Regina could tell, the Queen had not wasted a moment of their time together. Emma was well conditioned. She had intrigued the Queen.

_Are you surprised? Haven’t you always been intrigued by her?_

Regina took a deep breath, forcing down the poison creeping through her veins. There was already one green witch in their family. They certainly didn’t need another. She detested the color. Jealousy would get her nowhere, but she had to admit, she was jealous. How many times had she fantasized about conquering Emma Swan? How many times had she wished to bring Emma to her knees? She wanted Emma. She had feelings for Emma. Yet, the Queen was the one to fill those desires, and that angered her for many reasons. First and foremost being, the Queen’s methods were never how Emma’s submission to her was intended to happen.

Her mouth went dry, guilt flooding her chest. She didn’t see hatred in Emma’s eyes, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come. If she had used her normal methods on Emma, she may have ruined any chance at a relationship with her Sheriff. Her Savior. She may have ruined her first real friendship too.

_Or solidified it._

No. She wouldn’t take advantage of this. If Emma was conditioned by the Queen, Regina would undo what she could and spend the rest of her life trying to make up for her transgressions. It seemed like that was always the case. No matter how far she came, the Queen found a new way to harm the people she cared about.

“Will she be okay?” Henry whispered.

Regina’s heart stopped, stuttered and then sped. Henry. Their son wasn’t easily fooled. He knew his mother was in trouble. Could he handle this truth? She wasn’t sure. Then again, she wasn’t sure any of them could, including herself and Emma.

_One thing at a time. You need to know what the truth is first._

She nodded at Henry but uncertainty filled her heart. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she is.”

She looked back at Emma and green eyes met hers, questioning, and waiting. She needed direction and for the briefest second Regina considered telling Emma to follow her. Whether her suspicions were true or not, the Queen was awake and wanted Emma at her side.

That wouldn’t help anyone. Not tonight.

Instead, she schooled her expression into the no nonsense look she’d mastered with Henry, dropping her voice so that each word impacted.

“If things get too rough tonight, call me.” She leveled her stare. “For anything, Emma.”

Emma didn’t look away. Her breathing shallowed and her lips parted, instinct propelling her response. “Yes, My-“ she broke off and her eyes widened. “Regina.”

Regina felt more than heard her own gasp. She fisted her hands at her side and nodded back. Her magic was itching to leave her fingertips, to take what was hers. She wouldn’t. “I’ll see you in the morning. Make sure you eat breakfast,” she added. “We have a long day.”

And she had a long night. She had some investigating to do before she truly confronted Emma. With a wave of her hand, she transported herself and Henry’s book to her vault.

“First-things-first,” she repeated, flipping open the cover.


	9. Chapter 9

_Emma stared at her reflection. Her skin had lost the sickly pallor left by her time in the dungeon. Her cheeks and lips were brushed an orchid pink and her eyes shown a vibrant green. Her time in the Queen’s care was probably the most intense month of her life. Not to mention the most complicated and confusing. Every day felt like a whirlwind of emotions, though she hadn’t had a lot of time to process them. The Queen kept her focus, encouraging her full attention. If Emma’s mind did wander, the Queen drew her back._

_She never knew what techniques the Queen would use. Sometimes it was a gentle kiss. Other times she used the biting sting of a quick reprimand; a tug of the hair or a smack of her hand. The actions were generally more shocking than harmful. Her thoughts were her own, but the Queen didn’t leave her with much time to think passed her immediate circumstances._

_Until this morning._

_The Queen let her mind drift, busying herself with other tasks. Emma doubted her lenience would be infinite. The time she was receiving was only because of her dream, and their night together._

_Emma traced the dark circled under her eyes. The nightmares had started early, a continuous loop of people and places she’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. She knew why she had them. Each time she left a foster home, she pushed the memories from her mind. As far as she was concerned, the fosters she left behind no longer existed. There were new homes and families to deal with. There were new rules and threats to learn if she wanted to survive. There wasn’t time to dwell on whatever hell-hole she had escaped from. The odds were she was entering a new one._

_That didn’t mean her heart forgot. The child inside her didn’t forget. Ghosts plagued her, fear and turmoil twisting into a motion picture after Emma had fallen asleep. The dreams were a common occurrence during her adolescent years. Once she left the system, they became less frequent._

_Last night, they’d come back with a vengeance._

_The Queen tugged at Emma’s hair, gold locks weaving through her fingers. Emma followed the gentle direction, lifting her head as the Queen pinned back her braid. Brown eyes were downcast, her gaze attuned to each strand._

And probably more, _Emma thought_.

_She’d spent enough time with Regina to know she missed nothing. She noted each rise and fall of her chest, the flickering of her eyes or the tensing of her muscles._

_Right now, Emma’s back was knotted. She’d also thrown something out of place during her episode of intense thrashing._

_She didn’t know why the Queen hadn’t brought it up. Emma hadn’t come to immediately. Mr. Alderson’s hands closed around her throat, grip tightening with each word he spoke. He grit his teeth, spittle flying. His rancid breath reeked of scotch. The scent clogged Emma’s nose, cutting her air off more quickly._

_She hadn’t take his credit card. It wasn’t her. It was their son, Bobby. Adult Emma knew he wouldn’t believe that. But, at nine years old she was still foolish enough to think the truth made a difference. People like Alderson didn’t want the truth. They covered reality with expensive scotch and searched for scapegoats. His private school, baseball star son wouldn’t steal from him. And the school was wrong about the vandalism in the gym. The damage was done by scholarship students. Poor kids with behavioral problems. Kids like Emma. He was stupid to let garbage into his home. That’s what she was: street trash, an urchin, unwanted._

_He shook her and darkness flooded the corners of her vision._

_Emma._

_Another harsh shake._

_Nails dug into her arms and her name was called again. Her eyes had flown open then, seeing but not fully awake. She gasped for breath, clawing at her throat. Arms fought to restrain her, to pin her down. Emma swung. Her hips thrashed, legs kicking. There was the distinctive ‘umph’ sound of a dispelled breath. She’d hit her attacker._

_“Emma!”_

_It was the smell of apples and earth that brought her back. The Queen’s magic surrounded her, holding her without restraining. The sensation was something like floating. It engulfed her like water, keeping her buoyant as she returned to the present._

_She met the Queen’s eyes and her heart went from panicked to horrified. No one had ever witnessed her nightmares. Not in her adult years. Well, no one sense Neal. She’d broken his nose when he attempted to wake her one night. What had she done to the Queen? What did she see? What did she hear?_

_She scrambled back, heart racing. Her windpipe closed, her throat dry and burning. She’d really messed up. Mr. Alderson was terrifying, but he had nothing on the woman before her. The one punishment she’d taken at the Queen’s hand was enough to last a lifetime._

She punished you for eating, Swan.

_Emma felt sick. She had struck her. What were the consequences for that?_

_She forced herself to breathe and looked up. There were no signs of anger or even disappointment. The Queen’s face was a mixture of emotions: curiosity, concern and comfort flashing behind dark eyes. She held up her hands, palms faced out as she inched closer._

_Emma didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe until the Queen’s hand cupped her cheek, her thumb brushing at an escaped tear._

_“I’m sorry.” The words were a whimper, but enough. The Queen pulled her close as sobs raked her body. They didn’t speak. There was nothing but soft murmurs and hushed whispers as the Queen rocked, rubbing circles along her back._

_It was a strange sensation. She easily got lost in the offered comfort, but the gesture prickled at the back of her neck in warning. She wasn’t sensing a lie. She found no ill intentions behind the Queen’s actions. Her touch was welcomed. More than welcomed. A lot had happened between them in the last month. Emma had physically surrendered to the woman more than she cared to admit. She accepted the routine discipline. She enjoyed the hypnotic state left by the sharp whip and velvet fingertip. The ritual grounded her in a way, while simultaneously stimulating her desires. She craved the Queen’s approval, and seeking it had lead the Queen beneath her walls. But the deepest parts of her? She’d always managed to keep those to herself._

_The Queen knew those parts of her existed. She called to the child inside her, coaxing her out and asking for her secrets. So far Emma had kept her locked away. Rocking in the Queen’s arms, she was too close. She wasn’t just seeking comfort anymore or adjusting to circumstances. She was beginning to trust and need the woman holding her, and that was a dangerous gamble. Trusting anyone was hard for her, but the Evil Queen?_

_The little girl inside ruffled, annoyed by Emma’s constant caution. She wanted the care, the stability. The truth was, every part of Emma wanted that, but how could she give in? She didn’t belong here. She would have to leave eventually. She needed to keep those last defenses up. It was a hard task to accomplish as she listened to the Queen’s heart beat beneath her ear. The vibrations of an old lullaby floated over her. She was safe and content. While she knew the Queen had motives of her own, the moment between them was real. She let go, allowing the Queen to guide her back to sleep._

_Her uneasiness returned that morning, memories flooding back. She felt exposed and vulnerable, more so than after their shared intimacies. Emma gave the Queen her pleasure and pain in front of the fireplace each evening. The experience always left her raw and open, her layers peeled back. This was different. These were her scars, her dark anger, and her deepest desires. It was all there, hidden by the stitched fibers and soft tissues masquerading as her heart._

_The nightmares awakened her worst fears, releasing suppressed rage. She used to imagine her anger as Hexxus from Fern Gully, black ooze, toxic and bubbling inside her. Sometimes it took days to force it back down. She pushed away the urge to hunt and destroy, swallowing her wrath. She knew how to track. She was a bounty hunter. She could find the people who hurt her, if she wanted._

_She didn’t._

_It was for their sake and her own. She didn’t want to relive the nightmares that invaded her sleep. She also feared what would happen if she actually faced them. She didn’t think she would survive the confrontation intact. She would lose herself in the process and she wasn’t sure she would recognize the person who emerged on the other side. Would the child inside her even exist anymore? Vengeance wasn’t a part of her. Revenge would destroy the girl’s innocence, destroy her hope more than her negligent foster parents._

_The despicable people who hurt her weren’t the only ones Emma needed to worry about. She had never lost control. Not exactly. She awoke irritable, little grievances grinding her nerves. She was more likely to attack, biting and snarling at anyone who came too close to the aggravated wounds._

_The same wounds the Queen was snuggled up to, searching and pressing with delicate fingers. She was closer to Emma’s scars than any other person had made it. While her presence was calm and soothing, Emma prickled at the proximity. The Queen was being patient, cautious. She wasn’t pushing. But it didn’t matter. If she was inside her wounds, she had the potential to see what Emma kept hidden and the potential to hurt her._

That won’t happen. _The whisper was small, and high pitched._

_Emma’s shoulders tensed. The Queen stilled, catching her eye in the mirror. She watched Emma’s face, waiting._

_Emma took a deep breath and forced her body to relax. Her child self didn’t want to let go of the Queen. Despite the threat of discipline, she felt protected and wanted. Emma understood the desire. She also knew good intentions weren’t always enough. The Queen spoke the right words. When she comforted Emma, the tenderness behind her actions was real, though Emma knew better than to believe they were completely altruistic. She promised Emma a home. So had many others._

No. We knew they lied. They were bad and we knew.

_Emma growled internally. The child’s perspective wasn’t inaccurate. No matter how charming or sweet a foster could be, she always knew when it was a lie. She didn’t get that with the Queen. There wasn’t the sharp sting at the back of her neck, raising the hair on her arms. The sickly sweet taste of pure sugar didn’t coat her tongue, signalizing deceptions. The Queen was dangerous. Absolutely. But there wasn’t the chill in her spine, electricity igniting her blood. There was no signal telling her to fight or run. Not that either of those things were an option._

_The Queen was harsh on occasion. She was a predator and Emma was her prey. The woman kept each piece of Emma she found. Yet, she hadn’t betrayed her. Not like her foster parents. They exposed her weaknesses and used them against her._

Used them to _hurt_ you, _Emma corrected._

_The Queen used her weaknesses too. She adapted to Emma. When she found a wound she didn’t exploit it so much as claimed it. She opened the old cuts, cleaning and mending before stitching them back closed. It hurt. The Queen wasn’t always gentle. She scrubbed away tar and sanded down scar tissue. Once re-closed, all that remained was the Queen’s essence. Emma felt her there. When the pain of those wounds flared, Emma no longer withdrew. She reached for the Queen. The Queen was taking her heart. Piece by piece. That was the real danger. Emma’s feelings for the woman were intensifying. Holding back was becoming more difficult. With each wound the Queen claimed, the harder it became to stay focused on the endgame. She thought of Storybrooke less and less. She struggled with the idea of going home. She knew she needed to, but thoughts of leaving the Queen made the old scars twinge. The truth was, the Queen could do more damage than any of her fosters ever had, if she wanted._

She won’t.

_Why wouldn’t she? Emma countered her younger self. The Queen clearly wanted her. But, why? What was the endgame? She still didn’t know._

_Emma raked her teeth over her top lip. She tried to keep her mind steady, tentatively replacing bricks around the pieces of her heart that were still her own. She was cautious, knowing the Queen would sense if she was shutting down. She wouldn’t let Emma push her out. Not without a fight. Emma would have slide the wound from her grasp, a rebellion that would earn her consequences if she wasn’t careful._

_The Queen pinned a final strand of hair and summoned clothing. Leather pants and a cotton tunic were her regular attire. Her wardrobe fit her days. She spent her mornings and evenings with the Queen, and occasionally lunch. That didn’t mean the rest of her day was free. The Queen filled each minute of her day with menial tasks and education. She was assigned chores, which varied from one day to the next. She never really knew what she would be doing. Sometimes she helped in the kitchen, scrubbing pots and pans. Other days, she accompanied the servants who cleaned the bedchambers._

_“Am I a servant?” Emma had asked her second day out of the dungeon._

_The Queen shook her head. “What you are is mine. As such, you do as I desire.”_

_Emma’s brows creased. She didn’t see the point of scrubbing dishes. The Queen knew she wasn’t really royalty. Well, she technically was she supposed, but that was beside the point. Washing dishes wasn’t exactly torture or punishment._

_The Queen cupped her cheek. “Do you recall what I told you yesterday about trust?”_

_She nodded. “Trust is earned.”_

_“It is. Right now, you are earning mine.”_

_“By doing dishes…”_

_The Queen’s lips pressed into a tight smile. “Given recent events and your track record, I don’t yet trust you to be on your own. While I would enjoy spending more…. Quality time with you,” she purred, “I have a kingdom to run.”_

_“And you think I will run.”_

_“I have no doubts you will eventually try something foolish.” The Queen moved closer, their bodies flushed together. Her laced corset pressed into the thin cotton covering Emma’s breasts. Sharp fingers gripped her hip, keeping her near. Her lips grazed Emma’s ear. “When you do, you will find out what I’m really capable of. We may still be getting acquainted with each other, Emma, but you’re already under my skin. I know your scent. I know the feel of your body, the way it moves and responds. I even know the rhythm of your heart, the sound of your rushing blood. If you run, I will find you. And then, my dear, you will find out exactly how evil I can be.”_

_She stepped back and Emma swallowed, her body trembling. She was lost in the Queen’s penetrating gaze, her wide smile and gleaming teeth. Her stomach dropped, adrenaline spiking. Conflicting emotions battered against her: trepidation, anticipation and excitement. She stayed frozen, not moving when the Queen’s hand slid down the front of her pants. Her legs spread involuntarily, obeying the silent command. A finger parted swollen lips and the Queen moaned._

_“You’re wet, Em-ma…”_

_She gasped, the Queen’s words breaking the spell. She jerked back and the Queen caught her wrist._

_“I don’t remember giving you permission to move… Did I?”_

_She shook her head._

_“I didn’t think so. I believe you’ve earned some extra time with the whip tonight.”_

_Emma’s teeth ground together, anger burning in her chest. She knew she should repent, and ask for forgiveness._

_The words wouldn’t come. She did what the woman asked. She let her feed and dress her. She had given herself to the Queen for the last two nights in a row, but as far as Emma was concerned, her body was still her own. It took all of her strength to swallow down the insults and accusations on her lips._

_To her surprise, the Queen didn’t bait her. She waited, removing her hand to savor Emma’s glistening juices._

_“Why do you do that?” Emma asked._

_The Queen raised a brow. “Have you never tasted it?”_

_“No,” Emma growled. “That’s not what I meant.”_

_“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific then.”_

_Emma ignored her. “You know what I was thinking just now.” Emma had never mastered stoicism. She wore her heart on her sleeve, especially her anger and frustration. “You could have trapped me or…”_

_“You’re already trapped.”_

_“That’s –“_

_The Queen held up a hand, her face sobering. “You want to know why I allow you time to gather yourself? Why I don’t just let you stumble and fall into a situation_

_that would earn you my displeasure?”_

_“Or push me into it.”_

_The Queen smirked. “Contrary to what you believe, I don’t want to see you fail. I don’t want to punish you. I want subjugation.” She released Emma’s wrist. “I gave you the opportunity to correct your behavior and submit before you went too far. If you couldn’t manage it on your own, I would have helped you.”_   
_Emma shivered over the word ‘help,’ knowing it likely meant pain and discomfort._

_“You didn’t need me to step in this time,” the Queen shrugged. “You asked why I’m assigning you chores? For the same reason.”_

_“So I don’t get into trouble? I’m already familiar with how you whip feels.”_

_“You have a vague idea, yes. Trust me, until you truly disobey me, you have no idea what discipline really means. I give you a small taste of pain each evening so that hopefully you never will. Unfortunately, I doubt that deterrence will work forever. Your soul is strong. You’ll rebel eventually. Better to remove the temptation._ _Don’t you think?”_

_Emma scoffed at the stone floor. “If I’m too busy to think means I’m too busy to plan my escape, right?” She couldn’t say she blamed the woman. She had admitted to looking for a way out of the castle just the day before._

_“It also means no time to dwell.” She lifted Emma’s chin. “You’ve been through a lot and the methods I use are meant to tear down defenses. While that is beneficial to me, it also leaves you susceptible to old ghosts. I promised I wouldn’t let your demons keep their hold on you. I keep my word.”_

_The Queen did keep her word. She never heard the woman say what she didn’t mean. Avoid the truth? Sure. But she kept her promises. She followed through, which wasn’t always beneficial to her._

That time it was, _her younger self argued._

_Yes. The chores kept her mind too busy for the monsters of her past to break through her thinning walls. There were still moments. Usually during her routine discipline and their resulting intimacies. The Queen’s strategic methods placed new cracks in her armor. Phantom fingers reached through, destroying the carefully crafted shelter Emma had hidden behind for so long. The floor dropped from beneath her and the world toppled down. She fell. Right into the Queen’s arms._

_The Queen always caught her. She never let Emma hit the ground.The darkness never consumed her. The Queen held tight. Her voice broke through the hateful snarls and shouting, until Emma came back to her, lost in gentle kisses and soft caresses. She gathered the crushed rubble, creating not a stone wall, but something that closer resembled a home._

_Her child self loved it. Submission was easy for her. After all, wasn’t that normal life for a child? She was cared for. The Queen comforted her and showed her affection. There were consequences when she didn’t follow the rules. In the eyes of a child, it all made sense and she was more than willing to give herself to the Queen._

_Emma wasn’t as easily swayed into submission. No matter how genuine the Queen’s words felt, Emma was used to strings. She was used to love with conditions._

_What did the Queen really want with her? How long would this last?_

_She had asked once before. The Queen never answered. Not directly. She was vague. Her answers came in riddles, teases and hints. Maybe the Queen didn’t know what she really wanted?_

_More likely, she enjoyed keeping Emma in the dark._

_The Queen held up the blouse and waited. The fabric was a combination of deep purple silk and black velvet. Leather laced up the sleeves and bodice. She definitely wasn’t mucking stables today._

_“You’re quiet this morning.”_

_A multitude of responses flooded Emma’s mind. Not one of them were appropriate. She swallowed, choosing an answer that was honest as she cared to get at the moment. “I don’t know what to say.”_

_She didn’t. She didn’t want to talk about the dream or Mr. Alderson. She also didn’t want to talk about anything the Queen saw or heard. She knew she should at least apologize for hitting her before she woke up, but that felt like opening a can of worms. She wasn’t sure she would survive a conversation with her about this. Not this morning. Holding herself together was hard enough on a good day lately._

_The Queen held up a pair of black leather pants and Emma slid her legs in. She gripped the Queen’s shoulders and stood, allowing warm fingers to slide the waistline over her hips._

_“Would you like breakfast?”_

_Emma tilted her head, meeting chocolate irises. “You’re seriously letting this go?”_

_It wasn’t usually Her Majesty’s style. When she wanted to know something she was like a vice. She squeezed, questioned and prodded, testing weaknesses. Her silence on this matter was a new tactic Emma wasn’t sure how to counter._

_“You seem like you could use some space.”_

_Emma’s lips parted as the Queen sauntered away, conjuring plates and trays. She snapped her jaw shut and followed. She sat in the offered chair, glancing over her shoulder uncertainly. “You don’t give space.”_

_“Not normally, no.”_

_“But today you are? After last night?”_

_It didn’t make sense. Shouldn’t space be given when you weren’t worried someone would break into a fit of hysterics? She wouldn’t. But she had. Less than six hours ago._

_“I am.” The Queen took her seat. With a wave of her hand, both of their plates filled with cinnamon bread, fresh fruit, and an omelet. “For now.”_

_“I knew there had to be a catch.”_

_“A catch would imply conditions, making a trade so to speak. I’m not doing that, am I?”_

_“That I know of,” Emma grumbled._

_“I can change that.”_

_She shook her head. “That’s okay.”_

_“That’s what I thought. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be as generous. These…. Ghosts of yours… I do think it’s time we spoke about them.”_

_Emma froze, her skin bristling._

_“But, I also think you could use time to collect your thoughts.”_

_“And if I don’t want to talk about them?”_

_“I hope it won’t come to that, Emma.”_

_Emma dropped her bread back onto her plate. “You can’t make me talk about some things.”_

_The Queen took a bite of fruit, chewing slowly. “’Making you’ is an… unfitting term. I have no plans to pour truth serum down your throat or torture the story out of you.” She sat back, swirling her goblet. When she looked up, her eyes darkened. “I know you, dear. Better than you’d like to admit. These demons of yours aren’t hiding. I know where to find them, and can drag them from the shadows if I choose.” She took a sip of wine. “I’d rather you offer them to me.”_

_Emma swallowed, her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, her breath catching. She had no doubt the Queen meant what she said. She had unearthed too many buried memories, bringing back to life old corpses. She was also the one fighting them, driving them back into the ground. Emma piled more dirt on top of them, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. If the Queen wanted, she could reach beneath, rip them from their graves and bring them to the surface._

_“Aren’t some things better left buried?”_

_“No. You can’t be free if you keep your demons locked inside you.”_

_“Free?” Emma nearly laughed. She was a prisoner. The Queen’s prisoner. “You mean for you to claim.”_

_“Yes.”_

_Emma blinked at the abruptness of her answer. “And what if there’s nothing left for you after? What if I let it all out and it consumes me?”_

_“I won’t let that happen.”_

_Emma snorted. “Right.”_

_How many parents had thought the same thing. How many had taken her in, thinking they’d be the ones to give her a good life and make a difference? At least four that Emma could remember. They were the few good homes. The fosters not looking for a government check, or a helpless foster kid to give them a power trip. Their intentions were genuine. They knew she’d come with baggage. They just weren’t prepared. They never were. How did they handle a four-year-old girl who screamed every time they tried to bathe her because her last set of fosters had been to careless to check the water’s temperature? How did they handle night terrors so bad their six-year-old trashed the room in her sleep? How did they correct and eight-year-old who stole food from every store and hoarded it under her bed?_

_They weren’t equipped to deal with the meltdowns. They sent her back. Every. Last. One._

_Those parents had hurt her worse than any of the others. They’d promised her love and a home, and then they had walked away._   
_Emma’s nostrils flared. “You keep saying I’m yours. You’re working so hard to make me submit. But even if I do, my words and actions mean nothing. You want to know when I’ll be yours? When you can face down my darkness and not walk away. When you can-“_

_“Fight your demons?” The Queen suggested._

_Shit._

_What the hell was she saying? She was lost in her anger, wanting to prove to the Queen she would be like all the others who abandoned her. How the hell had she agreed with her?_

_The Queen smiled and Emma glared at her. “That’s not what I meant.”_

_“It was. You think I can’t handle the monsters inside you, Emma? I can and I have. Haven’t I already proven that? Haven’t I already proven I’m keeping you?”_

_“What, by taking me out of the dungeon?”_

_“No, Emma. Because I’m here. I know your demons exist and I’m asking for them. Why would I invest my time, if I didn’t think you were worth my interest?”_

_“I’m sure you’ve found other prisoners interesting. Where are they now?” She challenged._

_The Queen leaned back, gazing at her over the rim of her goblet. “You know what I find more curious?”_

_Emma didn’t answer. There was a glint in the Queen’s eye that sent her stomach tumbling._

_“You're worried you’ll be one of them.”_

_“Dead? Yeah.”_

_The Queen chuckled. “We both know I have no intention of killing you.”_

_“No. I don’t know that!” Emma snapped. She pushed her plate away and stood up. Her heart pounded and her fists clenched. “Do you know how many people have promised me a family? How many times I heard promises of safety and a home? How many times I believed them? You keep making promises but none of those people are here and I’m, what, supposed to trust the Evil Queen?”_

_“Yes.” She hadn’t heard the Queen get up or noticed her cross the room. Hands gripped her upper arms, turning her. “Yes, Emma.”_   
_Emma kept her eyes on the floor. Her skin vibrated with electricity and for the first time in weeks she was grateful for the block on her magic. She was a live wire, dangerous and sparking._

_The Queen didn’t step away. She kept her grip on Emma, breathing softly until the storm passed. “You can trust me.”_

_“How?”_

_“You want to know the difference between you and the prisoners I sentenced to death?”_

Not really, _she thought. She didn’t want the details but she did want to know why she mattered. “What?” She whispered, her voice hoarse with restrained tears._

_“I never wanted their heart.”_

_“My worry is what will happen when you get mine.”_

_“I’m going to let you in on a secret.” The Queen leaned in close. “I already have it. I think I had it long before you ended up in my dungeon.”_

_Emma tensed, her inhale sharp. The Queen’s magic kept her from stepping away, trapping her. “I don’t know what you mean.”_

_She winced at the quiver in her voice. She had hoped the Queen had forgotten about their perceived familiarity. Apparently, she wasn’t that lucky._

_“I think you do,” the Queen countered. She let silence fall between them before whispering, “A conversation for another day…”_

_Emma nodded, uncertain of what else to say. Soft lips met her own, massaging and coaxing. As their tongues entwined, her anger melted, all her senses attuned to the woman holding her. A soft whimper escaped her throat and the Queen pulled away._

_“I have plans for you, Emma. Plans for us. I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t think you were worth my while.” Their lips brushed again and the Queen took her hand. “Come. I’m keeping you with me today.”_

_Emma blinked, bewildered. “What?”_

_“I told you, I won’t let your demons claim what is mine. Normally, I trust that the tasks I leave will be enough to keep your darker thoughts at bay. You’re too fragile right now.”_

_“I’m not,” Emma argued. Had anyone ever used that word to describe her?_

_The child inside stomped her foot. With her walls left in ruin, there wasn’t much protecting her. The Queen had heard her cries last night, the child’s voice rising in terror._

Please? _The tiny voice pleaded. She wanted to be with the Queen. She wanted to trust her._

_Emma sighed. She was probably stupid to take this chance, but she needed to see. She needed to know what would happen if she let the Queen in._

_“You’re right. I am,” Emma admitted. The Queen paused, turning back. Emma didn’t meet her gaze. She rubbed her fingers together. Her palms were sticky with sweat. “It hurts. The dream… I didn’t know the pain was still there.” She licked her lips. “He tried to choke me.”_

_“Who did?”_

_Emma didn’t need to look up to feel her anger. Her voice had lowered, the sound hitting her like thorns and broken glass._

_“A man I lived with. In one of the homes.” Emma spat the last word. “When I was nine.”_

_“What was his name?”_

_“He doesn’t live in your… kingdom.”_

_“That’s not what I asked.”_

_“Jacob Adlerson.”_

_The Queen lead them across the room, stopping at a full-length mirror._

_Emma froze, tugging her hand back. There wasn’t any point. The Queen held tight, her eyes hardening. “Enough.”_   
_The command slid over Emma and she stilled. “You don’t have to do this.”_

_“Look at me.”_

_Emma’s chest heaved._

_“Now, Emma.”_

_Her eyes snapped to the Queen’s face. The rage she expected was no where to be found. Her face was relaxed, eyes understanding as she cupped Emma’s cheek. “You need to face him.”_

_“Why?” She was quite content never seeing him again. She didn’t want to see any of them again. Her stomach revolted, picturing Alderson’s twisted lips and steal teeth, the unfeeling glass eyes and icy stare._

_“I’m right here with you. Breathe deep and focus on the dream.”_

_The Queen’s words were soft but Emma recognized the authority behind them. She had to obey. She took a deep breath and images flashed behind her eyes._

_“Good girl.”_

_Reaching forward, the Queen pressed two fingers to the edge of the mirror. The glass rippled and the reflection dissolved. A knew room appeared, but not one Emma recognized. The home was stately, with marble floors and a wooden banister. A fireplace crackled over fresh burning logs, pictures decorating the mantle._   
_She recognized the man in the leather armchair. The features were the same as the man in her memories: broad chin and long nose. His skin wasn’t as tight though. Wrinkle lines framed his eyes, half hidden by reading glasses. His black hair was salted with streaks of gray and he had lost some of his build. This wasn’t her dream or her past. It was her present._

_How had that happened? Seeing her memories was one thing, but how had the Queen found the man in a present that hadn’t happened yet, or in her realm? It didn’t make sense._

_“Is that him?” She asked._

_Emma nodded, perplexed. Her pulse calmed as she watched him turn the page of his newspaper. He wasn’t as big as she remembered. Was he ever? Maybe it was his age or her childhood perception that made him so formidable. Either way, the grave she’d put him in sealed over, fear dissolving. She didn’t know how she felt about him now. There was still anger. But, seeing him in this form? He stopped being a monster. At least the one of her nightmares. He was a man who was desperate. He was a coward and a bully. Emma was an easy target for his anger. He was weak._

_She glanced at the Queen. The woman’s head was tilted, shoulders tight. “What now?”_

_“Now?” She drawled. She lifted her hand, giving a quick twist of her wrist. Mr. Adlerson’s head jerked, a sickening crack filling the air. The newspaper dropped and he slumped in his chair. “We move on.”_

_The mirror dissolved but Emma’s eyes remained glued to the glass. He was gone. He was dead. The Queen had killed him. “What did you do?”_

_“What I will do to anyone who hurts you, Emma.” She gripped her chin, turning her face away from the mirror. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to send you away. I will be here. I will face your demons and I will win. Do you understand?”_

_Emma’s chest heaved, her breaths coming in short gasps. She knew what Regina was capable of. She knew she’d killed Graham and Katherine. She knew she killed her grandfather. Well, more or less. Somehow it had never really sank in. She had been detached from it. Seeing this… “You killed him.”_

_“Yes.” There was no remorse in her face or voice. She stood steady, unblinking as she watched Emma. “Anyone who hurts a child deserves nothing less.”_   
_Emma wasn’t sure. She hated him. She hated what he did to her. She’d thought about tracking him down more than once. She probably would have hurt him if she had. Would she have killed him? Did he deserve death?_

_She scrunched her brow, the Queen’s words catching up to her. “Anyone who hurts a child?”_

_“It is the one crime for which I show no mercy.” She brushed Emma’s cheek. “And hurting what is mine? Is even more unforgivable.” She kissed Emma, trailing over her cheeks and eyes before claiming her lips. “I will be here,” she repeated._

_“Even if I mess up?”_

_The Queen lifted a brow. “Mess up, how?”_

_Emma shrugged. Did it matter? She always messed up somehow. “What if I ran away? What then? Do you kill me? Throw me back in the dungeon? Find a new….” She didn’t know what she was or how to define their relationship._

_“No.”_

_“No, to which part?”_

_“No to all of it. I won’t throw you back in the dungeon or kill you, though I may make you wish I had. You are mine, Emma. Forever.”_

 

Emma sat up straight, eyes peering into the darkness. Neon red glowed bright from her bedside. 5:00 am. She had two hours before she needed to get ready for work, but she doubted she’d fall back to sleep. 

_You were lucky to sleep as much as she did._

Since leaving the castle, she had only averaged a few hours of sleep each night. Despite being exhausted, her mind fought off sleep, drifting between the past and her present reality. She agonized, guilt and worry plaguing until her fatigue overpowered her. She usually woke up feeling worse. 

Not this morning. 

She felt calm. Almost tranquil. Considering everything, she was surprised. Regina’s visit last night had left her dangling on a precipice. The Mayor was no nonsense as she expected, but the rest of her behavior?

Emma shook her head. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Regina had stormed into her room, interrogating and accusing. She knew Emma wasn’t sick. Of course she didn’t believe that. Regina was smart. It took a lot to convince her of subterfuge. Emma had yet to see anyone actually succeed. 

So what had Regina had taken away from their interaction?

Emma had replayed each word and look a million times, her heart pounding as she pictured the penetrating brown eyes. Her gaze held a look of curiosity and suspicion. But not anger. That’s what was throwing Emma off. 

_Regina crept forward, her lips turning up at the corners. Slowly, she lifted a hand and Emma sucked in a breath. Regina tucked a stray hair behind her ear and traced her jaw, catching the Sheriff’s chin. “I’m going to ask this only once more. What made you lose control?”_

Emma’s heart stuttered. There were often hints of the Queen in Regina’s behavior. In that moment it was like seeing a ghost. The expression on her face was knowing, testing. Emma saw the Queen and the Queen saw her. 

She shook herself. No. She couldn’t be sure of that. Although her slip up before Regina left was pretty telling. She winced. The authority in Regina’s voice had triggered old instincts. “My Queen” had slipped from her lips before she had a chance to process what she was saying. She’d stopped short, but didn’t miss the way Regina’s eyes had darkened. The Mayor had heard her error. Or at least suspected her error. 

But then why wasn’t she mad?

If Regina really knew what had happened, she would have been furious. Emma had ignored her. Not intentionally but the result was the same. She’d fallen through the portal, put their lives in danger. 

_And you allowed the Queen to capture you. She shared secrets and intimacies with you. Things Regina never would have done. Would she?_

She thought again about the way Regina guided her into the kitchen bar stool, her hand at the small of her back, firm and familiar. Regina commanded her compliance not just once but several times, her breath hitching as Emma obeyed. 

_No, Swan. You’re seeing what you want to see._

Her heart sank, heavy weights pulling at her lungs. She needed to stop thinking about this. She had enough to deal with without making additional problems.   
Her stomach growled and Emma slid her legs to the floor. Despite eating a bear claw, sandwich and bowl of soup before bed, she was starved. Worse than yesterday, to be honest. She had gone so long with so little, she’d forgotten what it was like to be full, making the emptiness this morning more intense.   
She glanced back at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed. Was it too early for breakfast? She had permission. Well, Regina had told her to eat anyway. It was kind of the same. Grannies was open. She could get a bear claw...

The Queen’s face filled her mind, eyebrows lifting. _That’s not breakfast or an acceptable meal choice._

Regina would agree. She let her eat the pastry last night, but it was a test, which she failed. There was no way to convince Regina she was sick after that. 

_She never believed it anyway._

True. She sighed. She doubted a donut was what Regina had in mind when she told her to have breakfast. 

She needed protein. Eggs sounded good but cooking would wake her parents and Henry who she was not ready to face. They’d walked on eggshells around her after Regina left. She could see the concern still in their eyes. They would bombard her with questions, pestering and prodding. 

She leaned her head back, hitting the headboard with a soft thud. Light filled the room, her phone vibrating on the bedside table. 

She sighed. It had to be Hook. She wasn’t sure who else would try to contact her at this time of morning. Unless it was the station. She doubted it. He’d left her alone for 24 hours. That was progress at least. 

She picked up the device and her heart stilled. Regina’s name flashed on the screen with a message.

**“What’s wrong, Emma?”**

She stared at it, stomach summersaulting. The words sent a chill down her spine. Why would Regina think something was wrong? They’d talked. They would see each other in a few hours. Maybe the message was delayed? One from last night that hadn’t reached her yet?

That didn’t seem likely but she didn’t have another explanation. She turned the screen off and set the phone back down. 

It lit up again. 

This time her heart dropped. She reached for it slowly.

**Don’t ignore me, Miss Swan. I’m far passed my tolerance for that behavior. I asked you what is wrong. I expect an answer.**

Shit!

Emma’s eyes darted around the room. What the hell was going on? This wasn’t a horror movie. Was Regina lurking outside her window or-

Her eyes stopped on the vanity mirror. 

“Regina?” She whispered into the darkness. 

The glass rippled, Regina’s vault taking form behind the reflection. She leaned over a table, her hands flat on the surface, eyes narrowed as she looked over Emma’s bedraggled appearance. 

“What the hell?” Emma asked.

Regina lifted a brow and Emma glanced down. “Come again?”

Emma licked her lips. Don’t back down. You’re the sherif and her friend. The Savior wouldn’t apologize.   
What would she do? Roll her eyes? Probably. 

She couldn’t bring herself to do that. 

“Why are you in my mirror?”

“I thought it necessary to keep an eye on you, considering your behavior as of late.”

“Keep an eye on me,” Emma repeated. She folded her arms around her legs, scratching at the back of her hands. “Why?”

“Why? You cannot seriously be asking me that.”

Emma grimaced. Regina had a point. Her lack of appetite and erratic behavior would give most people a cause for concern. Was that all it was? She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more, that Regina knew. She bit her lip, unable to hold the woman’s gaze.

“We need to talk, Emma.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because I get the feeling, had I not shown up last night, you would have found a way to miss our noon meeting.”

“I wouldn’t have,” she mumbled, fidgeting under the blankets. Regina would have tracked her down. She wasn’t stupid enough to avoid her without a better plan. Like escaping town.

“Emma,” Regina’s voice darkened, drawing Emma’s eyes. “I don’t want to hear another lie.” She lifted her hand purple smoke filled Emma’s room. When it cleared she was standing in Regina’s vault, fully dressed in her jeans and leather jacket. “How long?”

Emma’s head shot up, her heart beating hard. Her mouth tasted like apple cotton candy, a sweeter taste than the Queen’s magic, but just as potent. She steadied herself, placing a hand against the stone wall. “How long what?”

“How long were you in the Enchanted Forest? More Specifically? How long were you with me?”

“I…” Emma took a deep breath and another. Her mind raced for an appropriate answer. None came. What was she supposed to say. Regina didn’t want lies, but did she really want the truth? She had no idea how Regina had put everything together. 

She hasn’t put everything together?

How could she? Even if she suspected Emma was with her in the past, her memories were gone. She didn’t really know what they had shared, or what they had been through. She wouldn’t remember their nights before the fireplace. She wouldn’t remember taking Emma’s pain, her fingers moving inside her as Emma gave over her pleasure. She didn’t know the sound of Emma’s cries, her gasps or moans. She didn’t know about her nightmares or her demons, the way she held Emma each night, the stories she whispered to her. Regina knew none if it and Emma couldn’t tell her. 

How did you tell your best friend that she had whipped you repeatedly, and that most of the time she enjoyed it? Not just enjoyed it. The process aroused her. She let Regina claim her on those pillows each night. She gladly lapped between the Queen’s legs in the morning to earn her meals for the day. She didn’t mind when the Queen pinned her with her magic, spreading her legs, pinching and biting her flesh until she cried out. How did she tell Regina that the few times she resisted, the Queen took her anyway, or that after a moment or two she had stopped caring, letting it happen. She gave herself, passionately responding to each kiss and caress.

She was addicted to her kisses, her taste and her scent. She craved the strong arms around her and the steady heartbeat beneath her ear each night. The Queen dressed her, fed her and even bathed her. She knew about the birth mark on Emma’s inner thigh, the scars on her hip, and their stories. She knew Emma was sensitive right below her breasts, abs rippling under Regina’s caress. She had learned a soft bite on her wrist or shoulder clouded Emma’s mind, and the rhythm her fingers should take her over the edge. She knew the way Emma’s muscles bunched or tensed, the sound of her breasts, the urgency of her kisses. Except, she didn’t really know any of that. Because Emma had betrayed her and taken her memories. How did Emma explain any of that?  
She cleared her throat. “What makes you think I was with you?”

“Is that an answer, Emma?”

She sucked in a breath and held it, shaking her head. Her response was one the Queen had used on her countless times. If she didn’t respond accordingly, there were always consequences. What would Regina do? She wasn’t ready to find out.

“Come here.”

Emma shuffled forward, her steps slow and measured. Regina waited until she stood across from her and pointed to the table, to Henry’s book which was laid open, a picture Princess Leia staring up from the pages.

“I did some reading last night, and I found this chapter particularly interesting. Do you know why?”

There was no point lying again. “You don’t remember it,” Emma whispered.

Regina smiled. The eyes of the Mayor drove a chill up her spine. “I don’t remember, and this chapter?” She gestured to the book. “It’s unreadable.”  
Emma glanced at the pages. They told her story, clear as day. Well, the child’s version of it. Princess Leia was captured and taken to the Queen’s dungeon where her disguise was discovered. The girl became the Queen’s first true friend, and though Emma had her own demons, she was the only few in all the realms to see beyond the Queen’s darkness.

Bile turned in Emma’s throat, guilt settled in her chest like heavy stones. She was glad Regina couldn’t read it. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“The words are jumbled, Miss Swan. Coded. With magic. What that means is someone tampered with my memory.”

Emma winced. 

“Do you know who this is?” She pointed to the princess in the red dress.

“Yes.” She admitted before quickly amending her answer. “I can read it.”

Regina lifted an eyebrow and turned the page. “And do you know him?” Hook sat at a campfire with her parents, the three of them laughing. 

_Laughing like I wasn’t captured or dead._

“Well?” She pressed.

“Of course I do, Regina!” Emma snapped.

Regina flipped back a chapter, showing the same pirate in a similar outfit, at a tavern with his men. “This is a coastal town, several miles from where he is also somehow mysteriously with the Charmings. Care to explain why there are two drunken pirates in my kingdom at the same time?”

There were probably more than two… She saw the people Hook surrounded himself with in the past, but knew that wasn’t what the Queen meant.

“How long?” Regina repeated.

“Four months in the Enchanted Forest. Three months with you.”

Regina pointed back to Princess Leia. “Is this you?”

Emma nodded and Regina shut the book. “What, now?” 

For a moment, Regina remained silent, her eyes distant and lips pursed. Her fingers tapped against the table top. “We get breakfast and go to work.”

Emma balked. “That’s it? That’s seriously all you are going to say?”

Regina came around the table and Emma backed away, swallowing when a brush of magic stopped her progress. “Make no mistake, Emma. This discussion is far from over. There is a lot I need to know, if I’m going to undo…” She didn’t finish her statement.

“Oh.” Emma’s heart constricted. She should have known. She did know. She told herself repeatedly Regina would despise what they’d shared. She would hate that Emma had been to the Enchanted Forest and encountered a version of herself she was trying to leave behind. She didn’t have the Queen’s memories. Emma wasn’t hers anymore.

Fingers gripped her chin, forcing her eyes up. “Things are going to change between us, Emma. No matter how we move forward… I may not remember what happened, but I feel the connection. I also know my history well enough to imagine what you experienced.” She looked into Emma’s eyes, dark clouds brooding beneath the surface. “This appears different though.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure yet, which is why we need time to talk. I want you to come to my house tonight. I’ll make dinner and we’ll discuss how we proceed.”

“I don’t think-“

“It’s me or the Charmings, Emma. Choose.”

She scowled. “That’s not fair.”

“I don’t play fair. I think you know that.” She climbed the steps, pushing the door to her vault open. “I expect you at 7:00 pm, sharp. Do not be late.”

There was another poof of smoke and Emma found herself at Grannies, with Regina beside her. The Mayor ordered coffee and paid for Emma’s too. “I have to get to the office.” She leaned closer, her breath a whisper. “No donuts. Eggs or oatmeal. You may have a side of bacon or sausage, toast and fruit. Eat until you’re full.” She stepped out the door and Emma stared after her, an electric chill rushing through her veins.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! Sorry for the delay. These chapter just keep getting longer, I swear! But I am so grateful for everyone who follows this story and all the feedback.
> 
> Also, I wanted to note that I recently created an author page on Facebook where I do provide teasers for upcoming chapters (I posted two for this chapter) as well as answer questions about characters and sometimes upcoming chapters. I also post inspiration and fic recs. So if you have a hard time holding out between chapters for more, go like my page. You can find me at: https://www.facebook.com/Amorah-Leigh-253337165433909/

Emma walked through the gate and stopped short. She took a deep breath, her fingers twitching at her side. Showing up had been an easy decision. Hell, it hadn't even been a decision. Not really. Regina wasn't the Queen anymore, but the monarch still lived inside her, surfacing with a sharp look or darkened tone.

Emma hadn't thought twice about dinner. The command took route in her soul and her body responded before her mind had a chance catch up. Even if she had thought about what she was doing, she wasn't sure what other options there were. Regina knew the truth now, and as much as she wanted to deny it, that hadn't been a bad thing so far.

Regina's presence soothed the restlessness in her blood, the constant adrenaline and anxiety coursing through her veins. She felt at ease, comforted by the effortless control the Mayor already seemed to be taking. Her demeanor was different, less formidable. The Queen possessed and devoured. Her power consumed, charging the air with electricity. Regina's presence was softer, more leading and less commanding. Emma could almost convince herself she had never fallen through the portal that it was all a dream. Regina instructed her and David, using her standard quick wit and snarky impatience. By lunch they had restored power to half the town and cleanup crews had repaired at least the major town buildings.

What had changed was Regina's proximity. She was never far from Emma, often placing a hand on her shoulder or back. It was more contact than they generally shared, but still mild compared to what she'd shared with the Queen. While the monarch had guided her with similar methods, her fingertips danced over Emma's skin, igniting and seducing. She knew Emma's sensitivities and always found a way to connect with those places.

She missed it. Each time Regina's hand graced the small of her back, she waited for the brush of a thumb above her jeans. She anticipated an arm circling her waist, holding her steady while hot breath tickled the nape of her neck.

It never came.

Of course it hadn't. Why would it? She had left the Enchanted Forest behind and their relationship. She and Regina didn't share the same intimate bond. Regina didn't remember, which was for the best.

Still, the Mayor had stepping to some sort of new role in her life. She was protective and observant, calling Emma to her if she wandered too far or tried to leave. There was no threat of consequences. At least not like she was used to, but the tone of voice held no leniency. Regina expected to be obeyed the same as the Queen.

There were other similarities. Old memories had crept in more than once that morning, freezing Emma in her tracks. Her heart pounded in her ear as guilt tugged at her chest. Her betrayal sliced at her heart as her mind darkened.

"Breathe."

That one word broke the glass box she'd been trapped inside, shattering the walls. She swayed, the forest trees blurring into focus. Her lungs expanded and the fear faded.

It was a temporary fix, a band aid. Standing outside the Manor, her muscles twitched with nervous energy. Regina knew the truth, but there was so much she didn't understand and too much Emma didn't want to talk about. The Mayor didn't seem to mad at her. Emma didn't want that to change. The only way to prevent that was to keep her mouth shut. She didn't trust her ability to do that. If Regina began asking questions, she knew she would slip up. She would answer and everything would change.

Hasn't it already?

She shook her head. There were some things they could never come back from. If Emma spilled the truth, she didn't see how they could move forward or how they could remain friends. She knew Regina would stay civil for Henry's sake. She also knew the pain she would feel each time Regina avoided her gaze, her voice cold and distant.

She needed to rethink her strategy. She needed a strategy period. She had no plan whatsoever, which was never a wise decision when facing the Mayor. She turned towards the gate and clamped down on her startled shriek. Regina stood behind her, a dark brow raised in a look she knew all too well.

"Going somewhere, Miss Swan?"

“I… I…” Emma stammered. She blinked, looking left and right. “Where did you come from?”

“I think the bigger question here is, why were you leaving?” Regina stepped forward and Emma instinctively moved back. “Did I not make myself clear this morning?”

Emma bit her lip. She wasn’t exactly making herself clear now. “About the time?”

“Among other things.”

The other things were where her understanding got murky. They had established that Emma had fallen through the portal and that they should talk. The lines blurred from that point on. She delighted in the Mayor’s attention. She obeyed when told to eat or drink. Regina was obviously taking the lead in this situation, but Emma had no idea what that meant or how far this new dynamic went. Surely Regina wasn’t reclaiming her previous authority.

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. No. Regina didn’t even know what all that entailed. Not yet. But…

Things are going to change between us, Emma… No matter how we move forward.

The ominous words had plagued her, bordering the line between a threat and a promise. What did they mean? Obviously she wouldn’t be able to look at Regina in the same way again. There would always be moments she saw the Queen. Not to mention the intimacy they had shared. Emma had traced the dark freckles on the Queen’s shoulders, trailed kisses over her abdomen, ribs and breasts…

Emma flushed and looked down.

No. She could pretend, but nothing would ever be the same. Not really.

“Emma.” Regina’s voice dropped to a soft whisper. Gentle fingers guided her chin, her gaze firm and commanding. “No more running.”

“I’m not ready for this, Regina.”

The Mayor nodded. “I don’t imagine either of us are.” She dropped her hand. “What you experienced at my hand is as intimidating as my forgotten memories. Probably more so.”

“Are you mad?” The words slipped out on a breath of air, but they were loud enough.

Dark eyes snapped up, alarm etched in the lines of her face. “No.”

Emma shook her head. “But-“

Regina lifted a hand and Emma pressed her lips together. “I’m not mad. At you.”

Silence fell as Emma struggled to grasp the meaning of Regina’s words. Who was she upset with? Zelena? Herself? Emma was the one who had ignored they Mayor’s call that night. She was the one who had fallen through the portal and messed up her parent’s lives. She was the one who got captured and put them all in danger.

Regina placed a hand on Emma’s arm and squeezed. “We can talk more inside. Dinner is getting cold.”

The door opened and the small of chicken assaulted Emma’s taste buds. It had been too long since she had a decent meal, a fact she suspected Regina knew.

“Lemon chicken and rice,” Regina explained. “I know you don’t normally care for ‘green things’ but I also made a side of asparagus and a salad.”

“Salad is good,” Emma said, following Regina to the kitchen table.

“So is asparagus.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. She was never big on vegetables. She blamed the foster care system. She was lucky to get real food, let alone anything healthy. Once she was out on her own, she found she didn’t care for the taste, unless she slathered them with cheese or ranch dressing. She had a feeling Regina wouldn’t give her that option and frowned at the generous portion placed in front of her.

“Just try it.”

She picked up a stalk, pinching it between her thumb and finger. “And if I don’t like it?”

“Fortunately for you, Henry loves it. He’ll take your portion.”

Emma’s heart stilled. “Where is Henry?”

“He’s at a friend’s.”  Regina took the seat next to her. “It’s just you and I tonight. I wanted there to be limited distractions. I also didn’t want you to be uncomfortable… Well, more uncomfortable. I know this conversation won’t be easy, but it is necessary.”

Emma swallowed down the ‘why?’ on her tongue. She knew they needed to at least cover the logistics of what happened. If she were in Regina’s shoes, she would want to know too. “Where do we start?”

“With a drink.” Regina poured each of them a glass of wine. “I suspect we may need something stronger before the night is out though.”

That was an understatement.

She accepted the glass, taking a generous sip followed by another and another. She set the glass back down and wiped her lips. “What exactly do you want to know?”

“For now? As much as you can tell me.”

“And later?”

“First things first.” Regina took a bite of chicken, chewing slowly. “Eat your dinner.”

Emma picked at her plate, rolling a piece of asparagus with her fork. She was hungry. Lunch was several hours ago. She barely tasted the turkey sandwich she scarfed down while arguing with the dwarfes. She had only eaten it because the woman before her insisted she should. The chicken smelt delicious, but it didn’t agree with the squirming dragons in her stomach.

“I didn’t meant to through the portal or get captured.”

Regina snorted. “I don’t think many strived to make it into my dungeon. Would you like to tell me what landed you there?”

“You can’t guess?”

“The picture in the book placed you in Midas’ castle. Knowing you? You could have dropped a pint of wine in my lap….” She held up her glass. “I’ve killed men for less.”

Emma scowled, crossing her arms. “I only did that one time and it wasn’t at the party.”

Regina raised a brow and sipped at her drink. “The bedroom then?”

Heat flooded Emma’s cheeks. “The garden.”

“Ah. I must have really liked you.”

Emma tilted her head, her heart picking up speed. The Queen did like her. The book had confirmed as much, but Emma knew it long before then. She was the Queen’s prisoner, but she was also something more. She was just never sure what that something was. “What makes you say that?”

“I believe you know how I feel about my apple tree.”

“I do.” Emma dropped her eyes. The tree was a weakness she had exploited not long after her arrival to Storybrooke. She still felt a twinge of guilt eat time she passed the remains of the branch she’d destroyed.

“My garden wasn’t a place I allowed just anyone. Surely you noticed.”

Emma shrugged and took a bite of food. “Most of the time we spent together was in your vault or our-“ She bit into the side of her cheek, wincing both at the sharp pain and her carelessness.

“Our?”

Emma stayed silent, holding her breath. She’d been here, what? Fifteen minutes? And already she’d given away far too much.

Regina pushed her plate away and dabbed at her lips with a cloth napkin. “Why don’t I tell you what I know.”

“Didn’t we already cover that this morning?”

They Mayor’s lips spread thin, pearly white teeth catching the light. “I’m not talking about the timeline of events, Emma.” Regina reached forward, eyes darkening as fingers brushed blonde hair back from her face. A small puff of air escaped pink lips as Regina captured her chin. “I’m talking about us.”

Emma swallowed. Her breathing was shallow and much to slow for the pounding of her heart. Her head was light and fuzzy, static thoughts scatter under the Mayor’s warm touch. “I don’t…. We… I…. “

A finger pressed to her lips and Emma stilled. “You weren’t the first person I brought up from the dungeons. You also weren’t the last. Though, few survived as long as you did. Do you know what that means?”

She did. The Queen had told her. “You thought I was worth your while.”

“If you made it three months with me and hadn’t broken, I doubt I planned to let you go. There was only one other in my history as strong as you and I’m betting you can guess who that was.”

“Graham.”

Regina nodded. “You know I was possessive of him. He was my prize. My huntsman.”

Her face sobered and Emma looked away, giving her a moment to collect herself. She knew the regret and guilt Regina felt towards Graham. She never wanted to kill Graham and wished she hadn’t. It was an impulsive decision made out of anger and fear. Emma wasn’t sure how to process all the emotions behind her words, but was able to see that Regina had cared for him in her own way.

She saw it in the Enchanted Forest too, the few times she was actually allowed to interact with Graham. It wasn’t often. She honestly didn’t know who got more jealous in that situation. Emma seethed over their relationship, but it wasn’t Graham’s affection she sought this time. It was the Queen’s. She hated the way she spoke to him, the pride in her eyes when she looked at him. But it was Emma she kept behind her and within arm’s reach. The few times she allowed Graham to escort her, the Queen had seemed on edge and irritable after, more demanding of Emma’s obedience and attention.

Graham was the only one who didn’t seem to care one way or another. It took her a few weeks to remember that he probably didn’t. He didn’t have his heart.

“If I was as invested in you as I think, I would have done everything in my power to tie you to me. I would have taken every precaution I could think of, and if my past self had, had our history, it might have worked. But she didn’t. She didn’t know your proclivity for running and escaping. Otherwise, I doubt you’d be here having dinner with me.”

Emma trembled. Her chicken tasted like gravel, hard and dry, scraping as she swallowed. She washed it down with a large gulp of wine. She shouldn’t be in Storybrooke. Regina had to know that. She’d broken the law, committed treason. Worse she’d left someone she…

She blinked fast, her eyes stinging. “You knew I’d try.”

“They always tried. Why do you think I used the methods I did? I learned each of my targets well. I found what they feared and desired and I used it against them. I created dependency, addiction through pleasure, using their deepest longings. I created unique punishments for each of them after I discovered what they desired most. I must have missed something with you.”

Emma shook her head. “You knew all those things.”

“Yet you’re here and not in the Queen’s castle.”

Emma shoved from the table. “I don’t want to be here!”

Silence fell, Emma’s eyes widening. “I’m sorry.” She turned on her heel and yelped. Magic prickled at the nape of her neck, invisible ropes ensnaring her.

Regina snapped her fingers and Emma spun. “You’ll find this version of me a lot more prepared for your tactics. I may not be your Queen, Emma, but until we get this sorted out and I can trust you will take care of yourself, you’re going to do as I say, starting with the rule I gave you outside. No more running. If something is troubling you, take a moment and collect yourself. But you don’t run off. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Emma hissed, her shoulders tightening. She hadn’t expected Regina’s response, though she should have. Regina wasn’t the Queen, but the monarch still lived inside her. Emma was foolish to test her limits or the Mayor’s resolve.

However, she wasn’t the only one overlooking information. Regina wasn’t wrong about their relationship, but she was wrong about how well the Queen knew her. She had taken every measure to tie Emma to her side. She failed only for one reason. She never pieced together Emma’s deepest secret:  where she was from and who her family was. She never found out about Henry.

 

_She sat at the Queen’s feet, eyes closed as she rested against the Monarch’s knee. The sun warmed her face, soft fingers threading her hair. They’d spent the morning in the garden, enjoying quiet companionship over breakfast. The Queen poured over paperwork. She read through stacks of letters, maps and books. Emma was content to sit at her side, watching her work. She breathed in the fresh air and the dark woman’s earthy scent. Her heart felt lighter these days, free in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Alderson was gone from her life. Facing him had destroyed the ghost of his memory, pulling sharp lead from the wound he inflicted. It was healing. She was healing._

_She stared up at the clouds. She hadn’t let herself think too hard about Alderson’s death. She was shell shocked after the images faded, her reflection returning to the shimmering glass mirror. She felt nothing though. There was no joy, anger or sadness. She hadn’t even felt guilt. If anything, the sensation was best described as a door closing. The Queen had covered the grave harboring Alderson’s memory. He couldn’t haunt her anymore. She was protected, safe. When she fell asleep that night, tucked into the Queen’s side, her other ghosts remained silent._

_She dreamt of other things now: pop tarts, a fire place and Christmas music. Henry’s laugh. She heard the sound clear, though it wasn’t the deep gruff he’d developed over the last year. It was a high pitched squeal, followed by soft giggles. She caught him snooping under the Christmas tree, her fingers flying over his rubs as she lifted him away._

_The memory wasn’t real of course. It was one of the many Regina gave her after Pan’s curse. It was a life she never had, but one she clung too. The sights and sounds were more real than most of her own life experiences. There were very few others she treasured, most taking place after Henry brought her to Storybrooke._

_Lying in the Queen’s lap, her heart fluttered. This world, this time, wasn’t her own. She wasn’t supposed to be there. Yet, she cherished moments like these, gentle fingers and soft lips. She was safe and cared for, more than just physically. She was the Queen’s and the Queen was becoming her home. Her first real home._

_After Alderson’s death, the Queen kept a close eye on her. Emma accompanied her to court, sitting at her side as she delegated over peasant squabbles and criminal accusations. She was nothing like the portrayal Henry’s book painted. Well, maybe not nothing. She had little tolerance for those who aided Snow White, leaving Emma to marvel at her own circumstances. The Queen was terrifying in her anger. Fire lit her eyes and flew from her finger tips. Some she incinerated on the spot. Others, she took her time with, interrogating as she held smaller flames close to their skin._

_Emma had turned away, bile swirling in her gut. What had spared her life?_

_The Queen hadn’t asked her any questions about Snow White since her initial capture, and while she wasn’t exactly gentle with her questioning, Emma hadn’t come close to fearing for her life. Now she was at the Queen’s side. She slept in the Queen’s bed. She was well fed and clothed. What the Queen had shown her was more than mercy. She didn’t think there was a word for it._

_Snow White was where the Queen’s wrath ended. Her dealings with her citizens were just. She listened and took her time with decisions. She found solutions for those who needed food or work… She ordered troops to repair a village damaged by a bout of intense storms, and forgave a debt to a man whose daughter had suffered two weeks with fever. She was fair as far as Emma could tell, but lived by her own code. There were her lines her subjects knew better than to cross, crimes that couldn’t be forgiven._

_She figured it was her lack of citizenship that had saved her. She hadn’t crossed a line when she helped Snow White. Others that helped the princess were subjects of the Queen. Their lack of loyalty was treason. Emma, on the other hand, wasn’t from this realm, a fact the Queen had picked up on fairly quickly. What she didn’t realize was that Emma’s realm was also about thirty years in the future. In a town the Queen created._

_Emma raked her teeth over her bottom lip. That secret was the only one she needed to keep. Both of their futures depended on it, as well as Henry’s. He was more important than both of them._

_In theory, the truth wasn’t likely to come up. Time travel wasn’t supposed to be possible. The Queen had no reason to suspect she knew Emma in the future. But, she had picked up on their connection. Emma couldn’t have hidden that if she wanted to. Even with separating Regina from the Queen in her mind, her body responded to the familiarity of the woman. She found herself, on occasion, bantering with the woman and even rolling her eyes. The Queen hadn’t notice the latter, which was fortunate. She didn’t think she would be able to explain her actions._

_There were too many moments… There were too many mannerisms and facial expressions, too many touches and phrases that were uniquely Regina, no matter what form she took. Emma saw her friend, someone she shared a son with and cared for. Family. She saw it whether she wanted to or not, and it had given her away. The Queen was asking questions. Thankfully, how they knew each other wasn’t one of them. Yet…_

_She stared up at the Queen’s face. Brown eyes met her own, patient and waiting. She hadn’t pestered her about Alderson, but Emma knew the conversation was coming. The question was easy enough. How many homes had she lived in…? There were too many to count, but she tried, skimming through addresses and neighborhoods. What she worried about was what questions her answer would spark. She had far worse demons than Alderson, trapped in steal cages. She didn’t want the Queen to go looking for them._

_“On average…” Emma pursed her lips, counting her fingertips as she rounded the number. “About two a year from the time I was three.”_

_She stared into the branches, letting the words fall from her lips as if she were talking about apples and not the homes she never had._

_“Your parents died?”_

_Emma’s heart jumped to her throat._

_It’s a logical question, Swan._

_“No.”_

_Brows furrowed as the Queen processed, trying to understand another world, one without magic or fairy godmothers. Of course she didn’t know that._

_"What happened when you were three?”_

_Emma shut her eyes and breathed deep. Warm fingers traced her eyes, smoothing lines. “I never knew my parents…” She paused and then added, “growing up. I didn’t know who they were or where I was from. There was a possibility they were dead. As a kid, I sometimes hoped they were. It was easier to accept than being abandoned.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I was found on a dirt road, wrapped in a blanket. I was only a day old, maybe? The blanket was knitted with my name and flowers. I thought someone mist have care to make something like that, but the how could they leave me there? They didn’t even take me to a fire station. The just left me on in the cold to die.”_

_Lips pressed to her forehead. The Queen didn’t say anything. She held her close and waited._

_Just pretend you’re reading a book, or a profile on a case you’re working, Emma told herself. They’re just words._

_“In my world, the government has a system in place for children with crappy parents. The problem is, a lot of the homes kids get placed in are just as bad or worse than the ones they left.”_

_“This, Alderson person…. He was one of them?”_

_Emma nodded. “He might not have been so horrible if I were younger. I’d been through too many homes by that point. I had too many problems. Night terrors. Stealing. Food usually. You’d be surprised how many fosters forget to feed you or just withhold food for ‘bad’ behavior.”_

_“No. I wouldn’t.”_

_Emma tilted her head. The Queen’s voice was resolute, as if she spoke from experience, but Emma had never had a meal taken away. She may not always choose to eat but the food was always there. Even when she made a mistake, the Queen fed her and fed her well. Maybe she had used that technique with other people? There were a fair few in the dungeons._

_“So your government gave you to another family?”_

_“The first one wasn’t that bad. They wanted me at first. Then they had a miracle. A baby of their own. They decided there wasn’t room for me and sent me back.”_

_The Queen stiffened. “One child? They had one child and though it too much? Villagers in this world have a half dozen kids and manage just fine.”_

_Emma swallowed, her throat tight. She had similar thoughts over the years. How could they have really loved her if they sent her back? She loved them, and she hated them for that. It had taken years for her to stop calling for them in her sleep. She woke up soaked in tears and urine, to the dismay of her new foster family._

_How could the Queen love her prisoner more than the people who claimed she was their child?_

_Emma didn’t have an answer for that. She didn’t even know if the Queen really did care for her. Love seemed like a strong word, but she was wanted and that was something._

_“After that, I bounced from home to home. I don’t think I lived anywhere for more than six months. The older I was, the worse it got.”_

_"_ _And each of them hurt you?”_

_Emma shrugged. “Not always physically.”_

_The Queen inhaled slowly, her dark eyes distant and clouded. “Physical pain does the least amount of damage, I find. Those scars heal more quickly.”_

_“It doesn’t really matter.” Emma stood, wondering through the trees. “The past is the past.”_

_“If only it were that simple.” She crooked her finger. “Return to me, please.”_

_Emma paused, toeing the line between obedience and insubordination. Her blood tingled, tiny needles jabbing inside her arms and legs. The conversation was making her restless. She had tried to stay detached, speaking words as if telling a story that had nothing to do with her. But it did. It was her story. It was her pain, anger and her shame._

_Heat flared in her chest. She had no reason to be ashamed. She had done thing wrong. It was the foster families who should feel dirty and unwanted. It didn’t work that way though._

_“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore.”_

_“Then listen.” The Queen held out her hand and lifted a brow. “Come to me, Emma. Trust me.”_

_Trust. There was that word again. It was such a simple concept, yet held so much weight. She was stupid to trust after everything she’d been through. She knew better. She was an expert at keeping people at arm’s length, except the woman in front of her. She took the offered and, letting the Queen pulled her near. “Untie me.”_

_“Un…tie… you?”_

_The brunette turned, offering the velvet laces holding her dress._

_Emma didn’t move. The Queen never let anyone touch her without perfect control. Not her soldiers or even the servants. While she dressed and undressed Emma, she didn’t allow anyone to offer her the same luxury. She changed in a puff of smoke and disrobed the same way._

_“My Queen?” Emma questioned, voice rising._

_“It’s okay.”_

_“We’re outside.”_

_“I’ve sealed the garden.” Gentle hands guided Emma to the laces. “Untie me.”_

_Emma took a deep breath, her hand trembling as the knots slipped free and the dress loosened. The Queen dipped her shoulder, sheer sleeves gliding over tanned skin. The dress fell free. The brunette stayed still. Velvet pooled at her feet as Emma’s eyes devoured the woman before her._

_“What do you see?”_

_Emma opened her mouth, words catching in her throat. Her tongue was dry and suddenly too big for her mouth. Her eyes traveled down the Queen’s back, a perfect combination of soft curves and muscle. Her waist dipped in, curling like a wave over hips and thighs. “I…”_

_“Focus, dear.”_

_“Beauty.” The word was a reverential whisper, tugging the Queen’s lips into a bemused smile._

_“Is that focusing, Emma?”_

_S_ _he inhaled and blinked, nostrils flaring. The smell of apples was tinted with muse, he scent of arousal. Emma closed her eyes and clenched her thighs. She was very focused, but obviously not on what the queen wanted. She owed her that much at least. If the Queen was willing to make herself vulnerable…_

_Emma’s eyes flew open. “Are you crazy?”_

_The Queen was still faced away from her, back exposed. “Pardon?”_

_“You shouldn’t be standing here like this. Someone could hurt you. I could hurt you!”_

_The Queen turned and Emma forced her gaze to remain on the woman’s face, “I find it unlikely,” the Queen stepped closer and Emma’s heart stuttered, “that someone so concerned with my welfare would try to harm me,” she husked._

_“You don’t know that.”_

_“Oh?” Long lashes fluttered. “Then go ahead. I’m giving you permission this once, Emma. You want to hurt me? Go ahead.”_

_“No.”_

_“There’ll be no repercussions. I give you my word. Though I cannot promise I won’t fight back.”_

_Hot breath tickled Emma’s cheeks. They were close, the Queen’s naked torso pressed against her chest. If she leaned forward, their lips would touch. As it was, the Queen’s pupils were blown wide, eclipsing chocolate irises. The air around them was charged. If she kissed her, the Queen would take her, here in the grass. Emma wanted to let her, but the undercurrent in the woman’s words stopped her. There was more going on than simple lust._

_She kept still, allowing the Queen to trace the skin of her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_“Are you sure?” A sharp nail dug into the crevice between her collarbones. “You won’t get another chance.”_

_“I don’t want a chance.” The Queen held her gaze, searching the sincerity of her words. It was a test. A test she passed. She wasn’t lying. She never had wanted to hurt the Queen. Not even during the first couple weeks as the woman trained and conditioned her. She was Regina, or would be one day. Emma never wanted to see her hurt.  And now? After the last month together? “Did you really think I’d take that offer?”_

_“No.”_

_The Queen pressed their mouths together, her tongue claiming as she nipped and sucked. Her hands pinned Emma to the tree, bark scratching at her back. She didn’t care. The Queen’s touch was electric fire, stirring her need and desire. And something more, something Emma wasn’t ready to think about. It was a mixture of emotions, loyalty and devotion combining with her passion._

_The Queen pulled back and Emma leaned her head against the tree, panting and breathless._

_“I didn’t think you’d take my offer…”_

_“Then why-”_

_“Because I need to know you are mine. I need to know that you won’t try and use what I’m going to share with you, Emma.”_

_“Haven’t I always been yours?” The Queen had made her position clear the moment she left the dungeon. Emma had no say and no power outside what the Queen allowed her. She belonged to her alone._

_T_ _he Queen placed a hand on her heart. “I need to know you are mine, here.”_

_Emma’s face paled, shock chilling her blood. What the Queen was asking had nothing to do with her being a prisoner and everything to do with the feelings she knew better than to really explore._

_“Are you mine, Em-ma? Can I trust you?”_

_“Yes.” She cleared her throat and added. “You can trust me.”_

_The Queen tilted her head, a soft smirk on her lips. “Are you mine?”_

_She bit her lip and glanced away._

_“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”_

_“No.” She wished the Queen would back away. The feel of her body fogged her mind, making it hard to focus. The scent of the Queen’s magic danced on her tongue, enticing and intoxicating. She wanted to give in, to answer her every question and indulge in the Queen’s reward. She couldn’t do that. Could she? Giving herself to the Queen meant opening herself to the woman completely. Opening herself to pain and abandonment. Wasn’t that how it always went? As long as she didn’t love them too hard, they would stay. The minute she got to close, it was all over._

_Maybe that was for the best. Maybe she should let herself love the Queen. The Queen would let her go. Or kill her._

She promised she wouldn’t _, the small voice said._

_That was true. She had promised. She had kept all of her promises so far. That terrified Emma more. If she gave the Queen her heart, she wouldn’t want to leave. She already struggled with the idea of having to return to her own time. If she let herself truly love, she feared she never would._

_“You know how I feel about lying, Emma,” the Queen pressed._

_“I’m not lying. I’m not afraid of you.”_

_“No. You’re not afraid of me. You’re afraid of your feelings for me.” The Queen took a step back and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all I needed to know.”_

_Emma didn’t have a chance to respond. The Queen turned around, glancing back over her shoulder. “What do you see?”_

_She swallowed allowing her gaze to trail over the Queen’s spine. She wasn’t sure what the Queen expected her to see that she hadn’t already noticed. She devoured the woman during their nightly intimacies, touching each birthmark or freckle, tracing every curve and…._

_A shimmer rippled in the sunlight, jagged lines surfacing as the glamour faded away. Scars. Dozens of them. They crisscrossed the Queen’s back, painting a stitched pattern of varying sizes and colors. Most were small and white, others had healed pink and were nearly the width of her pinky._

_“What… who?”_

_Emma tried to find the words, tentatively touching the old wounds. Who would have done this to her? Certainly not her grandfather. She knew he wasn’t the saint Snow painted him as, but this? Her blood recoiled at the thought, revolting against her own heritage. She had never wanted the ‘White’ name, or her title as princess. She was the Savior and that was enough. If her grandfather did this, she would renounce her family connection too. Let Snow live in her fantasy land. If her father had done this, Emma would make sure when she returned that he was never a good man and a deceitful king._

_“My mother.”_

_The words iced her rising temperature, freezing her in place. At least for a moment. She knew Cora. She had met Cora. The woman was cold and merciless when it came to her ambitions. She knew her relationship with Regina was strained but she had never imagined something like this. “Your mother?”_

_The Queen nodded and the glamour reappeared. “Yes.” She stepped back into her dress, pulling the fabric back into place. She presented the laces to Emma, allowing her to tighten the corset. “My mother had a lot of ideas on what made a Lady. Even more so on what made a Queen. She set impossible standards and the consequences for failure…. Were harsh.”_

_Emma finished the knot at the small of the Queen’s back and turned her around. Brown eyes met hers, but Emma saw no sadness or regret. She saw resignation and resolve, and the strength she had always associated with her son’s other mother. “I didn’t know.”_

_Brows furrowed. “How could you have? No one knows, Emma. Except my father.”_

_“Wait. He knew? And he didn’t try to stop it?”_

_The Queen cupped her cheek, stilling her movements. “He did. At first. He has no magic and was really no match for my mother. He hurt him too and then punished me worse for his involvement.”_

_“She whipped you.” The marks were obvious. Cora had taken a leather strap to her child._

_“She did. And to make sure the lesson sank in, she didn’t heal the wounds. The pain lasted for days. Sometimes longer.”_

_Emma turned away, clutching at a tree branch to remain standing. Her muscles trembled, straining as they fought to propel her into motion. She understood now what Regina had done with the mirror, why she had killed Alderson. In that moment, she wanted to rip Cora’s heart out herself. Except, Cora never had a heart. She hid it away so she wouldn’t have to feel her daughter’s pain. She didn’t have to care._

_“Was power really worth that much?”_

_The Queen sat back on the bench. “To my mother it was.”_

_Emma glanced at her. “And to you?”_

_“I never wanted to be Queen.”_

_No. Regina wanted to have love and a family. She wanted the stable boy. And she’d lost all of it because her mother’s greed. Because love and a family weren’t enough for her._

_“There were other punishments. No meals was a common one. Especially if she thought I was putting on too much weight. Hurting people I cared about: friends, my nanny. You’re not the only one who has learned not to get too close, Emma.” She crooked her finger. “Come here.”_

_Emma shuffled forward, seating herself on the bench next to the Queen. “Why are you telling me this?”_

_“Because I have demons too. Several of them. But I was fortunate growing up. I only had the devil I knew to contend with. What you faced, well were you in my kingdom, each of your ‘families’ would stand trial. I can’t do that for you, but I can help set you free. Would you like to know what happened to my mother?”_

_Emma did know. Regina had told her. She shoved Cora through a mirror where she became the Queen of Hearts in Wonderland. Still, she nodded._

_“I confronted her. With a mirror. Just like you. She made the mistake of thinking I’d never grow stronger than her. Your families made the same mistake. You are stronger than them. You’re strong enough to face them and defeat them, and so long as you’re mine, you will always have me behind you, to catch and protect you. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Good girl.” The Queen’s lips brushed her in a flurry of soft kissed, arms holding her near. “You can talk to me. I want you to know that. You can tell me anything and I promise to be there for you. I won’t use it against you or exploit the secrets you give me, Emma.”_

_Emma swallowed. “I know.”_

_“Do you?”_

_“I know I don’t always seem forth-coming, but like you’ve said, I’ve learned not to trust, or let others close. They always leave when I do.”_

_“I’m not leaving.”_

_“No.” The Queen would always be in her life in one form or another._

_“Is there anything you want to tell me?”_

_There were too many things. Too many secrets. Secrets she could never share and suddenly she wanted to. She wanted to tell the Queen about their future and their son. She wanted to tell her how much she missed Henry. She missed his smile and his laugh. She missed how much he believed in the impossible, his kindness and spirit. Each trait was a stone in her gut. Their son was remarkable. The Queen should know him._

She will.

_Emma took a deep breath. The Queen would know him one day. If she got back to the present… Besides she was keeping a bigger secret than that. She was the daughter of Snow White, the Queen’s greatest enemy, pretending to be someone else. She should have been honest long before now, long before the Queen revealed so much of herself. She’d given Emma a piece of her soul and Emma couldn’t give her anything in return. She couldn’t tell her anything that really mattered._

You gave her me _, a small voice whispered._

_That was true. She’d given the Queen the most fragile part of herself, the place inside her no one else had ever seen. She’d given her the child she’d locked away and the most vulnerable part of the savior, the part that wasn’t a savior at all. She’d given the Queen the lost girl she kept inside._

_“This is the only place I’ve ever considered home.” It wasn’t a lie, but the words tasted bitter in her mouth. There was so much more she needed to tell the Queen. She never could. She never could be the Queen’s. Not completely. Not like she wanted to be._

 

Emma stared in to Regina’s eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You knew me, Regina. You knew what I desired. You know my greatest joys and worst fears. You saw my demons and fought them. And I was yours. I was. But you didn’t know about Henry. I didn’t tell you and that’s why I’m here.”

Magic fell away and Emma sank to the Marble floor, clutching her chest. The guilt she’d buried surfaced, flooding the damn she’d kept it confined inside. She knew Regina was standing over her but it was the Queen’s face she pictured above her, shocked and angered by her admission. After everything they had shared, after all the Queen had told her, Emma had kept the most important secret of all.

“You didn’t know about Henry and you didn’t know my relationship with Snow White.”

She cringed over the last word, waiting for the harsh words that would finally condemn her to the fate she knew she deserved. She had made an irreversible mistake and not wanted.

She felt more than heard Regina drop to the floor next to her. She cupped Emma’s face on both sides, her fingers tangling in blonde locks. “Emma, listen to me.” She waited, holding tight as Emma’s breathing slowed. Slowly she lifted her face until their eyes met. “You did the right thing.”

Emma shook her head. “I didn’t, I-“

“You did, Emma. If I had known about Henry….. Our world as we know it would be gone. The Queen, I was impulsive. I would have wanted Henry as much as I wanted you. I wouldn’t have waited.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Emma straightened. “How? Regina, you don’t even have your memories.”

“I think we need to fix that.”

Emma paled, her heart lodging in her throat. “What?”

Regina held out her hand, helping Emma to her feet. “Come on. We could both use another drink.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone! I'm so sorry for the delayed update. I unfortunately came down with a case of strep throat last week and was struggling to find motivation for pretty much anything that wasn't sleeping on my couch. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. The next one should be posted in a couple of weeks and will be Regina's POV!

Emma shifted, uncomfortable in her seat. Regina lit a fire and poured them both a glass of gin. She preferred tequila, but she would take what she could get. The flames warmed her face as she sipped, trying to pull herself together. The lush furniture reminded her a little too much of home.   
She shut her eyes and breathed deep. It reminded her of the castle. This was her home.

In reality, Regina’s home office was nothing like the castle. The floors were tile. The furniture was warmer. Not the black suede Emma was used to. The walls were wood paneled, and covered in books. Only the ornate fireplace and the mirror above shadowed the home Emma knew. It was the scent that took her back: cinders and spiced cider. They clung to the furniture and Regina herself.

Emma’s lungs prickled, her chest constricting. It didn’t feel right. She shifted on the couch again. _This_ didn’t feel right. Her place was on her knees, in front of the fireplace. She closed her eyes and the office slipped away. The Queen’s hands slid over her shoulders, igniting flames in her belly.

_“Emma.”_

Her stomach dropped and her eyes shot open. She wasn’t there. She was here. She was with the Mayor. This night wouldn’t take her back. Not like she wanted. To be honest, that was a good thing. No matter how much Regina and the Queen were intertwined, their relationship wasn’t the same. They couldn’t have what they’d shared in the Enchanted Forest. Unless….

She tipped back the rest of her glass, throat burning as she swallowed. Regina wanted her memories. Emma couldn’t blame her. Not knowing was always worse than reality. She’d had a few blackouts in her day. The possibilities ate at you the next day, not knowing what you had done. You assumed the worst. She was sure Regina was. She saw apprehension in her eyes. Regina worried over what she had done. She didn’t realize, Emma was the one with something to hide. 

She knew Regina was trying to change. She regretted her past. Her embarrassment over this was understandable. But they all knew who Regina was before. It wasn’t a secret. Actually, Emma was more surprised by who she wasn’t. Emma saw another side to the woman across from her; another side of the story. The Queen wasn’t just Evil. She was passionate. She protected her people as fiercely as she hunted Snow White. Why would her encounters with her prisoners be any different? 

Her methods were supposed to inspire surrender. They were meant to break barriers and bend them to her will. She was an archeologist of the soul, pealing away layers and finding the treasure beneath. The Queen claimed hopes, fears and dreams. She claimed pain and healed wounds. She claimed her body and she claimed Emma’s soul. She claimed every piece of her, but what Emma gave her was more.

Emma shuddered, tugging at the shredded pieces of her heart. She had tried to stitch them back together, to hide the child inside. She’d barely managed to cover her. Her child self wanted the Queen. No, she didn’t just want to Queen. She wanted submission. She wanted to obey. Doing so was a rush. The adrenaline surged through her veins, urging the rest of Emma to follow her whims. She was rewarded for obedience, given safety and love. 

The adult side of her had long since let down her walls. She stacked a few feeble bricks, but knew they were merely an illusion. One touch of the Queen’s hand was all it would take to crumble them. She’d fall, giving herself over to the Queen’s desires. 

What would happen when Regina realized Emma enjoyed it all? She enjoyed the routine discipline. She enjoyed the pain and pleasure. She enjoyed the power that took her desire, breaking her resistance. Could she even claim there was a time she hadn’t? She’d fought against the whip at first, only to give the Queen her body, unprovoked. Emma was the one to seek the Queen’s touch night after night. The Queen didn’t push. Not those first couple of weeks. She gave her orgasms to the Queen freely, grinding into the pillows or the monarch’s fingers. 

What was she supposed to say to that? _I liked when you hit me? I enjoyed when you tied me down? The whip aroused me?_

The Queen enjoyed her submission, but Regina had changed. She obviously knew how to call up the queen when she needed her, but it wasn’t the same. She didn’t need the reminder of her previous life. She wouldn’t want the reminder. But Emma did and she couldn’t imagine a positive response to that. Their best option was to cover the basics of what happened and move on.

Emma spun the empty glass between her fingers. Regina was seated across from her, her back straight and legs crossed. She hadn’t spoken much after Emma’s meltdown. She hovered close, keeping a careful eye on her, always a hand at her back or shoulder. The gesture was protective, but Emma felt something more. There was a command in each touch, guiding and quick to reprimand. The blurred lines were confusing and not necessarily helping her attempts to let go.

Or maybe they weren’t blurred at all. Maybe it was all her perceptions. She had passed out yesterday. Her breakdown in the kitchen hadn’t helped convince anyone of her mental health either. Regina had every right to be concerned that she would lash out or run. It was a pattern.

_There’s one way to find out._

Emma pulled her feet on to the couch, hugging her knees. “Can I ask you something?” 

Regina gave a curt nod. 

“What do you… Are you… do you…”

“Breathe, Emma.”

Her intake of breath was involuntary, a reflex reaction. She frowned. Her obedience was too ingrained. It wasn’t even a conscious decision anymore.

“Just ask what you want to know,” Regina prompted.

“What are you feeling right now?”

Regina’s brows creased. “In regards to…”

“Never mind.” Emma bit her lip, dropping her gaze. 

“Don’t. Look at me.”

Emma shook her head. She shouldn’t have started the conversation. She wanted to know how Regina felt about her. What prompted the hand at her back? She needed to know if it was concern or something… Of course it was concern. There was no reason for Regina to feel anything else. Why would she?

“Now, Emma.”

Regina’s voice reverberated down her spine, lifting the hair on her arms. Emma’s eyes darted up.

“Say what’s on your mind.”

“It doesn’t matter, Regina.”

“I seriously doubt that. Ask me. How do I feel about what?”

Emma hesitated. How did she word this? She should just change the subject. It would be easier on both of them and it wasn’t like Regina would know it wasn’t her original question.

“The truth!”

Emma faltered, indignant. What the hell? She wasn’t that easy to read. “Who said I was going to lie?”

“Your proficiency at avoiding uncomfortable circumstances.”

Emma crossed her arms. Regina’s point was fair, but that didn’t make it less annoying. Or unnerving. The Queen knew her well. She knew all of her darkest places. She knew her nightmares and dreams, but it was Regina who could read her like a book. 

“Trust me, Emma.”

“I do.”

Regina blinked, puzzled. “Sometimes I wonder…” She trailed off, pursing her lips. “I trained my pets to trust in me. In only me. But usually the spark died the moment they did. Not in you though. Your spark still flickers. Yet, you claim to trust me? I’m not sure how you could, if I didn’t break you. Everything about you, about this situation, seems… different.”

“I…” Emma faltered, uncertain how to answer. Regina wasn’t asking her anyway. 

“I need my memories back, Emma.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Regina sighed. “I know you’re scared, but-.”

“It’s not about being afraid. I’m not going to do that, Regina. The memories are better off left where they are.”

“Oh? And you know that, how?” Her brows lifted, and Emma swallowed. Chocolate eyes darkened, pupils dilating. Regina leaned forward. “Tell me something, dear. Did you ever try giving the Queen orders?”

“You’re not the-“ She clamped down on her tongue but it was too late. Regina’s hand lifted, jerking Emma from her place on the couch. A sharp tug pulled her through the air, dropping her to the floor at Regina’s feet. Apples flooded her nose as Regina leaned forward, soft, warm breaths gracing her cheeks.

“That was your first mistake, Em-ma. We’re not separate entities. We are one and the same. I may not have my memories, but I can feel you beneath my skin. My body recognizes you and the instincts to conquer you are there, I promise. They always have been. Would you like to take a guess at what those instincts are now?”  
Emma shook her head, eyes wide. Her heart beat in her throat, the sound loud in her ears. Was this really happening? She had played their conversation in her mind all day, imagining the different ways it might go. This wasn’t one of them. But, Regina was right. In every scenario, Regina was only the Mayor and her friend. She had kept her separate from the Queen for her own survival. She shouldn’t have. The woman before her wasn’t the Mayor. Not exactly. She was something more. Something familiar and different. Someone she didn’t know how to read.

“Regina,” she whispered.

“I am. I am Regina. And I am the Queen. But you aren’t just Emma. Not anymore.” A thumb brushed her cheek bone. “You want to know what I’m feeling? Frustration. You’re finally mine and I can’t remember.”

Regina released her and backed away, leaving Emma trembling and aching. She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. The Queen had just made a very tangible appearance. It wasn’t just the normal glimpse in Regina’s voice or words. She had rushed to the surface, fire and power exploding from her fingertips.

“Regina?”

Brown eyes settled on her. They made no apologies as they held her captive, waiting for her next move. 

What was her next move?

She didn’t know anymore. Seeing the Queen had shaken her. If Regina had the same instincts as the Queen then…

_You’re finally mine and I can’t remember._

“Wait. Finally yours?” That answered one question. Regina’s touches weren’t just protective. She wanted her. Or at least wasn’t willing to let go of her.

“Surely you must have noticed. The connection between us? It’s always been there. There was always this familiarity. Passion and tension. I didn’t remember you, Emma. But there was always a need to claim you. One I couldn’t explain.”

Emma racked her brain. She did notice their connection. She would have to be blind not to. The pull to the Mayor was strong. Even when they hated each other, there was more sexual tension than she had cared to admit. Regina found ways to touch and unnerve her. She manipulated her life, pulling strings to force compliance. The interaction made Emma’s teeth grind. She acted like Emma’s decisions were hers to decide. The woman was infuriating. 

Emma had rebelled against the Mayor constantly. And yet, she struggled to pull herself way. She told herself she stayed for Henry. She had. It wasn’t a lie. The lie was that she tried to pretend she wasn’t addicted to the Mayor too. She tried to pretend that her heart didn’t jump when the Mayor walked into the room or that she didn’t respond to the woman’s possessive touch. 

What she couldn’t tell was if it had always been that way, or if her journey to the past had made it so. 

“And now?” Emma asked. She was afraid of the answer. Regina couldn’t possibly want all of that still, what she shared with the Queen. She understood regret of having missed the opportunity, but Regina had Robin. She wasn’t just going to give up her soulmate.

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“What? How can-“

Regina held up her hand. “It doesn’t matter because your health and survival is top priority right now.”

“My health is fine,” Emma growled.

“Is it?” Regina’s eyes traveled down her arms and legs, making her shiver. “Tell me, Emma. If I hadn’t given you your meals today, would you have eaten?”

“That’s not what-“

“Answer me.”

Emma’s jaw snapped shut. They both knew the answer. She needed Regina’s permission.

“Say it, Emma.”

“No. I wouldn’t have. Not without your approval.”

Regina shifted closer. “Permission for your meals was pretty standard. I offered my pets a choice. The food was theirs to eat if they wanted, but usually required they do something for me. Sound familiar?”

“Yes.”

“The requirements were different for each person. The idea was to help them relinquish control. The food was a reward. Pleasure association.”

“You were good at that,” Emma grumbled. She didn’t like thinking about the Queen with other people. She knew what they had wasn’t the same. She wasn’t just a pet. Only Graham had come close and he hadn’t returned the Queen’s affection.   
Regina nodded. “I was good at it. I still am.”

“With who?”

A brow lifted. “You sound a little possessive yourself, dear. Jealous?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Regina smirked. “I’m sure.”

Emma tightened her jaw as silence fell. They were locked in a battle of will. They both knew what she meant. She was jealous. Regina’s relationship with Robin appeared as vanilla as you could get. Was it not? Did Robin Submit to her? The thought made her gag.

After a moment, Regina leaned back, her voice once again taking the tone of the Mayor. “I haven’t had a relationship like that since I cast the curse. There wasn’t anyone who interested me. Until you, Emma.”

Emma’s breath caught. “Graham.”

“It was different. I wanted a fresh start in Storeybrook. I didn’t program him that way. The spell gave him the illusion of a heart and feelings. They weren’t real.”  
Graham’s feeling never were real, but she hadn’t considered Regina had lost interest in him too. 

“He was a distraction in this world. A means to an end.”

“You didn’t care about him.”

It was a statement, but Regina answered anyway. “Not like that.”

“But then why kill him? You crushed his heart, Regina. You took his life when he chose me.”

“No, dear. I crushed his heart when _you_ chose _him_.”

Emma pushed back on her haunches, stumbling back onto the couch. She curled over her knees, her fingers fisted in her hair. She felt sick, confused by the anger, sadness and elation swirling in her gut. Graham died because of her? Because she pursued a relationship with him and triggered the Queen’s wrath. She knew better now. The Queen never responded well when she spent time with Graham. She wouldn’t have pursued him. She definitely wouldn’t have flaunted it. 

“It was my fault.”

“No,” Regina answered. “I made the choice to kill him. His death is on my shoulders and is a decision I regret.” She waved her hand and another glass appeared in front of Emma.

“I don’t think I can drink right now.”

“It’s water.” 

Emma sighed and tipped the glass to her lips. The ice rushed down her throat, numbing her insides. The bile settled and she relaxed. At least a little.

“Deep inside, I knew you were mine. It never made sense at the time. I guess now I know why. You were mine in the past, and whatever we shared, it was strong enough to linger.”

Her heart fluttered. “What does that mean?” 

“I don’t know. Without my memories, there isn’t much I do know, including how to proceed. You’re not opening up and I didn’t really expect you to. I can only imagine what I put you through.”

“It’s not that. Do you think I would be here, if it were really that bad?”

“Yes.” Her answer was finale, leaving no room for argument. “I don’t expect you to know the difference anymore. I made sure my pets didn’t want to leave me. Pleasure association, remember? Whatever you wanted or needed, I would have found it. I held your deepest desires and traded them for your loyalty and obedience. No matter what that entailed. What I need to know now is, how I trained you. What did I use and what was my goal?”

Emma thought the Queen’s goal was fairly obvious. Her methods however… “That’s exactly what I don’t want you to know.”

“I’m sure you don’t. You have every right to be concerned. I promise you though, Emma. What I learn, I will use only to undo what I did. I won’t use it against you. Never again. I-“

“It’s not about you!”

Regina’s head tilted, her shoulders tightening. The Queen was there again, beneath the surface, pushing to break free. Emma could see her, bristling. Regina’s nostrils flared and her gaze hardened, sharp daggers boring into her chest. 

Emma cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Regina bit off the word, muscles tensed as she forced down her anger. “I don’t want your apologies. I want the truth. That’s the second time you’ve lost your temper tonight.”

“I know.” 

Regina stood. Her eyes held Emma’s as she crossed to the couch, taking the seat next to her. “That’s not acceptable, Emma. Understandable, but not acceptable. It’s time to talk this out. If it’s not what I did, then what is it about?”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t give you your memories, Regina. I don’t want you to see-“

“To see, what? That you desired me? That you liked it?”

Emma’s face paled. “How did you…?” Was Regina a mind reader now? Or was she just that much of an open book?

“I made sure you liked it, Emma.”

“The first night? That wasn’t you. That was me. It was all me.”

Regina reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. “What was? Talk to me. Help me understand.”

Emma looked away, staring out the window. The trees branches creaked in the wind, bowing low. They submitted, the way she should. She wanted to. Were it the Queen before her she would have by now. She knew better than to hold back. But this was Regina. They were the same and they weren’t. Regina only knew one side of her. She knew a side the Queen never saw. There Sheriff. The Savior. She didn’t know the broken pieces of the girl inside, who craved the Queen’s affection and attention. She didn’t know the woman who relished the Queen’s command or felt safety in her punishments. Regina didn’t know the person who took pleasure in kneeling before her. Once those memories merged, Regina wouldn’t see her the same. 

_She told you, she already doesn’t._

That was true. She wasn’t just Emma anymore. Regina was claimed her already, in some form or another. She was the Queen once. Part of her obviously still was. But was it enough?

Maybe Regina was right. Their past couldn’t be ignored now that it was in the open. They couldn’t move forward by pretending it hadn’t happened. She had tried that and she had hated it. The last three days had been hell. She felt like a top, spinning out of control. Her world blurred, two lives creating a broken image. It was impossible. The Queen had reshaped her. She didn’t fit her life in Storybrooke. They had to find a new reality. A new way forward. If Regina wanted the truth, she would give it to her. One way or another, her answer would bring an end to this. Regina would throw her out or… “You took a whip to my back.”

Regina gripped her leg, nails biting into her flesh. Her swallow was nearly audible as she absorbed Emma’s words. “I’m sorry.” It was a breath of air, strained and remorseful. “I know that’s not enough. No matter how much I apologize, it will never be enough.”

“You’re not listening. You don’t need to apologize.” Emma kept her head down, peeking from between fallen blond locks. “I liked it. Not the pain exactly.” She did like the discipline after a while. It anchored her, but she didn’t know how to explain that. “I liked being yours. I gave you my pleasure long before you asked for it. You didn’t force me. I…” Her voice cracked. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked fast, staring at the loose fabric of her jeans.

“Look at me, Emma.” She shook her head. A firm hand captured her chin, forcing her gaze up. “You have nothing to be ashamed about. Not with me.”

“You kidnapped me, Regina. I was your prisoner. You had me on my knees and you tortured me and I let you fuck me! No, actually it’s worse. I fucked myself for you.”

Regina opened her mouth, her lips forming soundless words. Her face was pale and stunned. Emma had shocked her. 

“How is that not something to be ashamed of?” Emma asked.

“Because it was me.”

“It wasn’t. It-“

“Enough!” 

The word lashed at Emma’s skin, tying her tongue. Her mouth dried, the taste of cotton coating her lips. “I didn’t mean-“

“I said enough,” Regina repeated. Fingers tapped at Emma’s cheek, a light smack to keep her focused. “You weren’t with some stranger, Emma. You were with me. The relationship we had was already pretty similar.” Her finger trailed over Emma’s jaw, a long nail gliding over the skin of her throat and collar bone. “The methods the Queen used, you’ve had your feet dipped in the shallow end of that pool for years. You’ve surrendered to me many times. Never at that depth, but I’m willing to wager it is something we have both thought about.”

Emma sucked in a breath, her stomach free falling. “Regina. Don’t.”

“Don’t?”

Emma nodded. “Please. Don’t you get it? I can’t go down this road with you. I miss her. I miss you. I want…” She couldn’t say what she wanted. Voicing her desire wouldn’t make it a reality. Regina was the Queen, but neither of them were hers. “I need to put myself back together.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“I will. But not if we do whatever this is.”

“This?” Regina dropped her hand away. “You think you can undo anything without facing the truth?”

“I am facing it.”

“No, Emma you’re running from it. The truth is you’re mine. The truth is you were before you fell through that portal. The truth is you enjoy submission. At least to me. And the truth is, without me, there isn’t a chance you’ll be able to undo whatever damage I did.”  
Emma shifted in her seat. She wanted to stand, to move away. She wanted to flee from the words Regina hurled. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” She grabbed the glass, needing another drink.

“Stop.”

The cup froze at her lips. 

“Set it down.”

No. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to comply. She knew the voice and knew what was expected. Obedience. Regina was testing her. Or testing something. Either way, Emma wasn’t going to play the game. She could do this on her own. She didn’t need the Queen. She was strong and more than capable of taking care of herself. 

The glass clanked against the table. Emma’s hand betrayed her. She released her hold and her head whipped around. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know what Regina was trying to prove. That she still had control? Of course she did. It hadn’t been that long. Her instincts still responded to the Queen. To her voice and touch. She needed time. Her conditioning wouldn’t disappear overnight. 

“I want my memories back, Emma. I’m not asking for them this time.” She held out her hand and the fairy’s wand materialized. “I’m telling you. This isn’t negotiable.”

Emma shook her head, backing away as Regina reached for her. She grabbed her wrist. Emma’s fingers unfurled beneath the Mayor’s grip, the smooth wood touching her palm. “I’m not doing this.”

“You are. Now, Emma.”

The wand lifted and Emma shut her eyes, magic flowing through her. It started in her chest, traveling down her arms to her fingertips. Memories of the Enchanted Forest floated through her mind and the wand vibrated. White light shot from the tip and Regina’s head tilted back, her fists clenching. It seemed like moments and an eternity before she looked up. Her eyes locked on Emma’s, but the familiar brown was gone. Her irises were deep purple, filled with power and lust.  
Emma waited, legs frozen beneath her. Regina breathed in deep, lungs expanding slow and steady. Her tongue ran over her lips and she tasted the air. After a moment, the magic passed and her eyes returned to normal.

“Regina?”

She nodded. “It’s okay, Emma. Everything’s okay.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry with the delay on this chapter. I have had a lot of inquiries on if I was abandoning the story. I assure you I am not. The last couple months have been extremely hectic, which has put a damper on my writing schedule. I'm hoping things will slow down soon and I will be able to update more frequently. Thank you for reading and for all your wonderful feedback.

**Regina's POV**

The memories rushed to the surface, a bursting damn of sights, sounds and smells. She remembered everything: finding Emma, their life together, how she felt when…

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, focusing on the sharp pain.

She wasn't ready to go there. Not yet. There was too much. Too many feelings to sort through. Too many images. Too many promises both kept and broken. She had to push those aside. She needed time to process.

She also had to deal with the present. Emma was here now. She needed to take care of her first.

She took a deep breath and released slowly. The memories shifted to their compartments. Their imprints were harder to get through. They lingered over her, distorting her senses. She smelt Emma's skin and hair, tasted her lips. Her fingers twitched with the ghost of Emma beneath her. The warmth of her body consumed her. She could hear Emma's breath in her ear.

She shook it away and swallowed.

_Find what's relevant_ , she told herself. What had she done to Emma? How much damage was there?

She dug through the memories, reaching deep through endless nights of conversation, soft kisses and unbridled laughter. The memories were darker here, but not unpleasant. Not like she expected. She remembered the whip, Emma on her knees, pale skin in the firelight. The striking sound jarred her, but the motion… her motions were restrained, testing. She had a goal and the goal wasn't to break Emma. It never was.

_The Queen's grip tightened on her chair, her head tilted as she gazed into the mirror. The girl was sleeping again, curled into the fetal position on the damp floor of her dungeon. Her red dress was torn up the side from a scuffle with her guards. That had been an intriguing surprise. Many of her prisoners chose to fight, but a princess?_

You know the girl's not a princess.

_She sighed. She did know. She knew the moment she gazed upon her face. The blonde stood before her, sandwiched between her knights. Her shoulders squared as their eyes met, her voice strong and confident. No princess spoke the way she did._

No one with good sense spoke the way she did.

_The girl had nearly lost her life in that moment. Regina had little time for fools or imposters. Magic surged and her senses spiked as she readied her strike. That was when she noticed it: garlic and ginger root, with the faintest smattering of honey. Rumple. The girl was covered with his magic._

_No. She was covered_ by _his magic._

_She focused her gaze, catching the glimmer of power. The woman before her was disguised. By the imp? What possible reason did he have for sending a peasant to a ball?_

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

_That was true. Rumple had made a deal with the cinder girl, but he'd needed a royal baby for something. She could only guess at the reason and quite frankly she didn't want to. As dark as her heart was, Rumple eclipsed her any day of the week. His imagination and thirst for power succeeded hers by far. But this girl wasn't here to win a prince. She was aiding Snow White and had used_ her _name._

_The confidence was perplexing. At first she assumed the woman was a confidant of Snow, someone she knew who was helping Leopold's brat escape. The wolf perhaps? How many others were brave enough to speak the queen's name?_

_She had tugged at Rumple's magic and another signature flared. Forest rain, lilacs and butterscotch? Magic. Locked magic but magic none the less. Who was this girl?_

_There were many ways to trap a witch's power. Most of them involved a curse. That might explain the woman's presence at Midas' Castle and her motive for helping Snow. How far would she go to free her own power? There was only one answer. As far as it took. She would make a deal with the imp. She didn't know a witch who wouldn't. Once you unlocked the door to your power, there was no comfortable way to slam it shut again. The magic grew inside you, an itch you needed to scratch. An inability to reach it would be maddening._

_If her inclinations were correct, she understood the motive. What she didn't understand was the girl's disguise. The game had changed. Death was off the table, at least for the time being. She wanted answers. Who was this girl? If she had made a deal with Rumple, why had he sent her to assist Snow?_

_More questions surfaced as days passed. Regina didn't immediately remove the girl's glamour. She found information more forthcoming after a few days of isolation. Her guards delivered stale bread twice a day and a mug of putrid water. There was one torch burning bright on the far wall, not close enough to ward off the chill of the dank dungeon air. The cold broke down stubborn resistance quickly. After a night of shivering they cursed her name. Two days of hunger and they raged against the bars. Three days of thirst and they screamed in the darkness. Within a week they begged for release, offering her what she wanted to know. Those that didn't, she helped along. But this girl…._

_The girl was at four days. She hadn't shown any signs of breaking. She ate the stale bread and drank the water. She didn't curse or scream. She didn't grovel for warmth or food._

_She had paced the cell at first, fists clenching and releasing at her side. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, darting over dark corners as if expecting someone to appear. Rumple? At first she thought so. Though as far as she could tell, the girl had served her purpose. Rumple wouldn't come for her if he had obtained what he needed. Even if he hadn't, he'd find another way, if it were more convenient._

_She'd since changed her mind. The girl wasn't looking for Rumple. Her behaviors were learned. She was prepared for an attack. It took only a night to realize from who. She didn't fall asleep easy. She shivered in the corner, arms laced around her knees. When sleep did find her, it wasn't peaceful. The whimpers were a sound Regina recognized. The sound of ghosts creeping from their graves. The girl had scars, and why wouldn't she? Most witches did. Magic was often awakened in times of hardship and pain, anger and desperation. They were all emotions Regina knew well. They were all emotions Snow had no frame of reference for._

Any yet this woman helped her?

_Perhaps she didn't know better. Most of her citizens didn't. Was this girl even one of hers?_

_"Regina."_

_The Queen's head snapped up. There it was. The faintest of whispers, speaking her name. It happened each night, a silent plea the girl would not speak in the day. She did not beg. She did not seek mercy or pardon. She laid still, silently freezing and starving._

_"Regina."_

_The hair on her arms stood on end. The woman had spoken her name with confidence at Midas' castle. In her dungeon, she should have tasted venom in the girl's voice. What she heard was reverence. What she heard was trust._

_Her heart dropped. Her first instinct was to rip the girl's tongue from her throat. What right did she have to speak the queen's name with such… familiarity?_

_Regina had lifted her arm, purple smoke billowing beneath her feet. Another soft whisper caressed her skin and she froze, teeth grinding. She should whip the girl senseless for showing such disrespect. Yet she remained in her chamber, staring at the girl's trembling form._

_She had walked away from the mirror, but found herself returning each night._

You wanted a companion.

_She clamped down on her inner musings. It had been some time since she had taken on a new conquest. They withered in her presence, under the harsh conditions of her authority. Graham had survived, but not intact. Though he had fared better than most. Her training split each of her pets, crumbling them to dust at her feet. Graham hadn't crumbled. He also hadn't submitted. But this girl?_

_There was a chance. She had strength and resolve. She also had scars. That intrigued the Queen. Who had hurt this woman and why? And why would someone like that, someone like her choose to help Snow White? Why did any of the fools of her kingdom choose Snow White? She was the one with battle wounds. She was the one who could understand their hardships, their losses!_

_The Queen tapped her finger against the arm rest. Her kingdom would see her as their true Queen in time. For now, she just needed one person. She would keep this girl. She would train her, but more importantly, she would prove she deserved her loyalty. She would earn this girl's devotion, her secrets and her trust. If she could earn the devotion of one, she could earn the love of others, and then maybe…_

_Her chest convulsed, hope prodding against the darkness._

Don't. Not yet.

_She wouldn't let herself hope. Not this time. She had had too many conquests and too many failures. She lost them all, deepening the black hole inside her._

_She couldn't take much more. Her losses were already too great. She knew there was a possibility she was already too damaged. Cora. Daniel's loss. Her marriage to Leopold. They had taken their toll. They'd poisoned her in more ways than she could count. If she failed this time, there would be no going back. The hole in her heart would never fill. She would truly be the Evil Queen._

_This would be different. She would make sure of it._

Regina inhaled a quivering breath, her eyes landing on the blond in front of her. She was thin and frail. Frailer than the last time they saw each other. Well, more frail than the last time the Queen saw her.

She studied Emma with renewed interest, taking in her demeanor through the eyes of both her present and former self. Emma rocked back and forth, her shoulders hunched and tense. She expected a reprimand. Had the Queen found Emma before her return to the present, she would have a received one.

_She would have received more than that._

The Queen's anger flared and Emma twitched, green eyes burning a hole into the fabric of her couch.

Regina took a deep breath and her nostrils flared. She needed to pull herself together. Emma had run for good reason. Her present self-understood that. If Emma had stayed in the past, time would have caught up to them eventually. They ran the risk of changing the timeline and Emma's destiny. Even if they managed to avoid it, once Snow conceived, Emma would have weakened. Time travel was supposed to be impossible for a reason. She couldn't survive long living two lives in the same time period. The laws of the universe would correct the imbalance, meaning one of them would die.

She swallowed down the Queen's hurt. She would have to deal with her emotions at some point. She may accept Emma's decisions. She was even thankful for them. That didn't erase the original wound. Pain seared through her chest, red hot pokers prodding her heart and lungs.

_The Queen stared at the stone floor. The metal links wound a path from her bed to the open shackles five feet away. They weren't broken. They were unlocked. Someone had unlocked…_

_Rain water filled her nose, despite the rising sun. The morning breeze carried the scent of spring flowers and butterscotch. Emma's magic. Emma had her magic?_

_Regina's heart froze in her chest, splintering as she breathed. Perhaps she was wrong and Emma was in the wash room. Regina hadn't set any rules about magic use. She hadn't thought she'd need to. She had put Emma through every test, watched as she struggled to reach her power. It slipped through her fingertips, spinning tumultuously inside her. The pressure should have been enough for Emma's power to break free, if it were possible. It hadn't. Still, Regina should have taken extra precautions; cast a binding spell of her own._

You should have confronted her about it.

_Perhaps. It was what she normally would have done, but she hadn't wanted normal. Not this time. She wanted something more. She wanted Emma to confide in her. She wanted her trust. She didn't think Emma would leave. They had come so far and shared so much. Emma had endured so much. Why would she leave now?_

_It didn't make sense. Regina had given her several opportunities to run in the last month. She gave her unsupervised access to the castle and the gardens. She even sent Emma to the palace market and she'd came back. She hadn't tried to escape…_

_Snow White._

_That's what all this was about, wasn't it? Emma's rule breaking, her punishment, the shackles. Emma had withheld information about Snow White. She knew the brat in some form, but Regina hadn't thought…_

You let your guard down too early. Emma needed more time.

_No. Emma had disobeyed her but Regina knew Emma wasn't in league with her enemies. Emma's arrival in her kingdom, her presence at Midas' ball, her connection to Snow White, it had to do with something else. There was a bigger story here. She knew it in her bones. She and Emma were connected by more than a chance encounter, and Emma's tie to Snow White was one of necessity. She just didn't know what was behind it._

_Emma would tell her the truth eventually or Regina would help her do it. They were so close last night._

_"I am protecting someone but it isn't Snow."_

_"Tell me."_

_"I can't."_

_Emma had taken her discipline, crying in her arms as the locks slipped free. There were so many. Regina had found the way into each of Emma's guarded tombs, but this secret, this door was a fortress. Charging it was risky and futile. The more she pushed, the more Emma fortified the locks, ceasing any progress they made._

_Instead, she circled, opening the doors around it. She battled the ghosts inside, earning Emma's devotion and compliance. Each time she came a little closer to the answers she needed. She came a little closer to Emma letting her in._

_She had played it safe yesterday. She disciplined, treading the line between Queen and confidant. She opened scars and soothed wounds. She taught hard lessons, reinforcing expectations and rewarding Emma's effort to obey. It was just the beginning. Today would be torture for both of them. Was that what unlocked Emma's magic? Was that why she ran?_

Calm down. You don't know that she ran.

_The blanket and pillow she had given Emma were folded neatly by the fire. Emma had completed her morning chores. Why bother? If she planned to run, stopping to fold her bedclothes was foolish._

Giving her a blanket was foolish. She didn't earn it. You were too soft with her and now look what's happened.

_Bile churned in her stomach, climbing her throat. She blinked into the flames. Emma couldn't be gone. She was afraid. Whatever this secret was, it was enough to risk her wrath. Emma believed in her. She'd chosen her, protected her. She lo-_

Loved you? Who could love you?

_She flicked her wrist, appearing inside her vault. The genie stared back at her from the mirror, ready to do her bidding. "Find Emma."_

"Regina?"

Emma's eyes fluttered, peeking through stands of blond hair. Guilt poured from her in waves of caramelized cotton candy and buttermilk. Emma  _had_  left her. She had left the queen.

Regina parted her lips, waiting for the right words. She was prepared for it. She was prepared for the queen's anger and frustration. Of course Emma had run from her. She was the Evil Queen. She wasn't prepared for the hurt or betrayal. She wasn't prepared to feel…

She wasn't sure how to categorize her emotions. For thirty years she had believed herself incapable of caring for another, at least until she found Henry. Motherhood had warmed the ice shards left by countless others, opening Regina to healing and affection. Her heart had warmed further once Emma came to Storybrooke. She never dreamed she had felt it before. The Queen took what she needed from those who shared her bed. She took pleasure, loyalty and companionship, giving nothing in return. She was damaged, darkened by the agendas of others. She had nothing to give, or so she had thought.

Emma…. She'd felt something for Emma, something beyond possession and excitement.

"Are you okay?" Emma's voice was strained as if slipping through a jagged glass window.

"I'm fine. A little overwhelmed… There's a lot…"

Emma nodded. "Should I go?"

"No!" The word lashed from her lips, surprising them both. Emma shrank back and Regina winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… If you feel you should go…" Her stomach twisted. She didn't want Emma to leave. Quite frankly she didn't think either of them were ready for her to leave. She needed time to sort through everything and Emma needed her. Their shared relationship wasn't what she imagined but her responsibility remained the same. Emma was hers. She wasn't sure what that meant for them now. She wasn't even sure what that had meant back then.

Regina took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't want you to go, but I won't stop you if you decide to."

"Oh."

"Emma." She lifted the blonde's chin, catching her gaze. "My giving you the choice to leave is not me setting you free."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I thought my memories would help me make a few decisions… turns out, those decisions might be more complicated than I suspected. I need time to process. Once I do, you and I will have a more serious conversation about how we proceed. But for tonight? I will give you space if you require it."

Emma's forehead rippled, her brows lifting towards her hairline. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. That doesn't mean there won't be rules or expectations. If you go home, you will follow the same guidelines I set for you last night. If the memories or emotions become too much, you call me. I want you to eat a snack before bed. A healthy snack. In the morning we'll meet at Grannies for breakfast."

"Okay."

Regina gave a curt nod. She glanced at the floor as she stood, not trusting herself to say anything further. She had promised herself she would do what was best for Emma. If returning to the loft was what she needed, Regina would let it be. She could keep an eye on her through the mirror.

"Regina?"

Her hand froze over the door knob as she glanced back. Emma was still on the couch, her eyes clear and confident. She sat straight, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"I want to stay."

Regina released a breath, her own shoulders relaxing. "Okay."


End file.
